Lead me not into temptation
by TartanPhoenix
Summary: Time turners are delicate instruments. This is why.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. The characters belong to J.K.Rowling. I promise to return them more or less intact.

Rating: 13+

AN: I was watching Superman with my little brother once, and I thought the idea was interesting.

Time Tuners are delicate instruments. This is why.

_Lead Me Not Into Temptation_

The sky was a brilliant blue, just as it should always be. The parade of white fluffy clouds seemed never ending as they made their way toward the horizon. It realized what the people below it were only just beginning to realize. It was a time for celebration.

It had taken him another two years. Two years after Harry Potter had walked through the boar flanked gates of Hogwarts for the last time as a student, he returned with even more trepidation. He had left that unsure school boy far behind. A young man, far older than his years had walked, his head held high, and faced the destiny others had chosen for him.

The wind had stilled, the birds became silent, and the battle began. Curses flew, angry words were exchanged, emerald eyes flashed, but Voldemort had lost and was no more. Harry stood, transfixed, as he watched the body of the most evil wizard simply fade away into nothing. Even the blades of grass beneath him simply stood tall once more and swayed in the wind. To Harry, it could all have been just a bad dream.

It took only a matter of seconds for the word to spread, and the entire wizarding world rose up in one voice of celebration. Albus Dumbledore, who had stood beside the young man through it all, deflecting spells, declared a week of remembrance. All classes had been cancelled, and at the end of that week, Halloween, the greatest feast ever seen was held for the students.

It was the next morning, ironically the first, that things changed, while still managing to stay the same. Life still made itself difficult.

It was still only seven o'clock, and classes were an hour away. The professors had all arrived for breakfast and were chatting amongst themselves about anything that came to mind. The war had been over for a week, but excitement was still running high, along with spirits. After being away from their classes for an entire week, most of the students were reluctant to start them again, and most of the children had yet to pull themselves from their warm beds. So, when the mail arrived that morning, there were only a handful of students sitting, bleary eyed, at the house tables, try to remember what a spoon was used for.

Owls swopped back and forth, brown, grey, and white balls of fluff dove toward the tables, seeming to enjoy the students startled reactions as much as the professors did. A wager had begun to guess at the first to fall from their seat. A poor first year Hufflepuff who has tipped over his pumpkin juice was currently in the lead.

There was one owl, however, that didn't join in. Instead, it continued to circle high above the hall. It was an odd owl, black from head to toe, and looked more like an overgrown raven than an owl, waiting to be noticed. Finally, when it had received enough attention, it flew toward the head table and came to rest in front of Albus. It stood stock still as he untied the large paper from its leg, not bothering to hide its contempt as it watched the other owls.

"Now now, there's no need to try and out do them. They're only having a little fun," Albus admonished gently. The owl looked at him indignantly before turning its back on him and flying away, knocking over his oatmeal in the process.

A small sound came from his right, and it grew into an outright laugh when he turned and looked down. "Is there something amusing Minerva?" Albus asked, knowing exactly what was making her eyes water.

Tenderly, she reached forward with her napkin and wiped the offending globs from the tip of his nose and his fore head as he took off his glasses and did the same. "I think you hurt its feelings Albus," she said, trying to catch her breath.

Albus could feel the warmth spread through him. It had been far too long since he seen her laugh like that. "Well, the oatmeal was a little lumpy for my tastes this morning anyway. And," he said, looking out of the corner of his eye, "if it makes you laugh like that, I'll have to do it more often."

She just shook her head and continued to chuckle, taking the liberty of unrolling his newspaper. The sharp intake of breath and muttered, "oh my" made his eyes follow hers to the headline. His hand came to rest over hers as he leaned in, reading over her shoulder. He had heard rumors of course, but this was unexpected.

_Minister Scrimgeour resigns under suspicion_

_Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, resigned from his post late last night. Scrimgeour, _

_who cited his failing health as the reason for his resignation, left office in what could be the _

_shortest term for a sitting Minister since Theodore Coldwater some 250 years ago was caught trying _

_to sell the Americas to a group of goblins. Scrimgeour, who could not be reached for comment, _

_may have had another reason for his sudden, and unexpected, departure._

_It has been learned that an internal investigation into Scrimgeour has been going on for _

_several months, although the specifics could not be released to the public. The IAD, Internal Auror Division, _

_spokeswizard did have this to say. "Mr. Scrimgeour has been under investigation due to a... disturbing _

_personal relationship with another Ministry employee. This person, who will not be identified at this time, _

_has also been under investigation for reported links to the rogue group, collectively known _

_as Death Eaters."_

_If the allegations facing the former Minister prove true, it will be up to the Wizengamot to decide his fate, _

_but there is one question on the minds of almost every person this morning. _

_Who will be the next Minister of Magic._

_Several names have been thrown out for consideration, including Arthur Weasley, Bertie Higgs, and a _

_member of the Unspeakables named Hadrian Scipio. But, there is one name that had garnered more support _

_from Ministry members and the public, Albus Dumbledore._

_The current headmaster, who has been called for office no less than seven times in the past, has always politely refused _

_the position, but can that be ready to change. Only time, and the next election will tell, but with such popular _

_support behind the movement, could anyone possibly stand in his way?_

The silence between the two old friends was deafening, until Albus started to chuckle. The slight shaking of his broad shoulders soon began to grow, until he was holding his sides, the laughter ripping from his throat.

Minerva's mind was reeling with the possible outcomes as she watched him, utterly incredulous and doubting his sanity. Projecting a calm she didn't feel, she folded up the paper and laid it down in front of them, her slim fingers folding on top of it. "Something funny Albus?" she asked cooly.

"Definitely," he said between chuckles.

She watched him, her heart pounding, until a thought wormed its way to the forefront. 'He's not going to take it.' To anyone who knew him, it was an obvious statement, but Minerva could feel the oppressive weight that had descended upon her lift as the relief washed over her like the evening tide.

"I take it," she said, her own lips betraying her and turning upward, "that I don't need to worry about losing you to the Ministry? Don't you want the opportunity to make ten pin bowling the national pastime?" she teased.

"Why Minerva? Looking for a promotion? Granted, the office is certainly bigger, but the staff can be a bear."

She tried to glare at him, but the light dancing in his eyes simply made it impossible. "No more so than dealing with an unruly headmaster," she said slyly. "Really Albus, after all this time, why won't you take the position. You have all but run the country for the last twenty years anyway. Why not make it official?"

Her tone, and the fact that she obviously expected an answer surprised him into silence. He watched as she absently filled his tea cup while he piled fresh strawberries onto her plate. "There are two very simple reasons for it my dear. One, Hogwarts is my home, and has been for most of my life. I cannot imagine anywhere else I would wish to be. And second, it would simply be too tempting."

She stared at him, confused, but he appeared utterly serious in his reasons. "Tempting?" she repeated questioningly.

"Hmm," he replied absentmindedly while he tapped his spoon gently on the side of the cup. His eyes took on a faraway look as he watched the liquid swirl downward, pulling him into its depths.

"For reasons I have never been able to understand, people seem bound and determined to follow me. If only they knew my mother would never allow me to have a pet since I couldn't remember to feed the poor animals. I highly doubt that there is... anything that our people would not let me do."

Minerva stared at him through narrowed eyes, her heart beating just a little quick for her own liking. "But surely, you wouldn't do anything that was not for our world's best interest? You're far to good for that Albus; I don't believe it."

His eyes stayed focused on the unseen, never noticing the few students who were staring at the pair. His hand slid over hers and gave it a tight squeeze. "Your faith in me never ceases to amaze Minerva, but can you not? Even the most altruistic of men have become tyrants in the name of peace. The muggles got it right. Absolute power corrupts absolutely."

He fell silent and gripped her hand tighter, almost painfully. "Albus," she called his name softly. This was not the type of reaction she had been expecting, and his answers were worrying her. In that instant she would give anything to have her lighthearted man she had fallen so hard for back.

He turned toward her, and the concern the filled the emerald orbs seemed to bring him back to the present. "Do you see my dear Minerva? You've always wondered why I'm my own boggart."

His voice dropped as he leaned in, the smell of sandalwood ensnaring her, enveloping her. She shuttered as his lips came to rest beside her ear, and his warm breath danced across her skin. "Given the right circumstances, I know exactly what I'm capable of, and it scares me to death. But," he said pulling back again, his voice returning to that light tone she knew best, "I have no reason to fear. As long as I have you, there is someone to keep my ego in check."

The bell rang, signaling the beginning of classes, but as the hall emptied around them, neither moved. Emotions crashed through her, each warring for dominance as his words sunk in. Minerva's hand surprised her and remained steady while it traveled up the length of his forearm and came to rest against his beard. She couldn't help marveling at the silky texture beneath her finger tips. "What am I going to do with you Albus," she breathed, staring into his eyes, becoming blissfully lost.

He grasped her hand, and brought it up to his lips, kissing her palm and allowing his tongue to dart across the sensitive skin. "I can think of one or two things," he dared, "Perhaps we can discuss them tonight, perhaps over dinner in my chambers."

Minerva stared into his eyes that always reminded her of the summer sky, and she saw everything she hoped for, as well as a vulnerability that surprised her.

She mimicked his previous actions, only stopping for a light, but promising, kiss first before finally stopping beside his ear. "Perhaps," she whispered.

She was smiling as she got up and walked out of the Great Hall and headed toward her classroom for the first lesson of the day. Albus was still sitting in his chair, staring into space with a goofy grin plastered on his face, long after she had arrived.

Please, if you've gotten this far, leave me a note to let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I just wanted to say THANKS! to everyone who has taken the time to review this story. I haven't gotten a response like this in a long time, and I hope itcontinues to catch everyone's imagination. Enjoy the next chapter.

Minerva sat back in her wooden chair as the last of the students filed out of her classroom, chatting excitedly amongst themselves. For the first time that any student could remember, Professor McGonagall had dismissed a class early and with no homework. As the last student shot a look at her from over his shoulder and walked out of the room, Minerva flicked her wand, shutting the door behind him.

Leaning back, the smile she had been fighting all day broke free. Years melted away as her crinkled slightly at the edges and a happy flush took hold of her cheeks. She knew she was grinning like an idiot, but in that moment, she couldn't have cared less. She was a woman very much in love. She could still see the twinkle of his eyes and his smile as she had walked out of the hall that morning. She licked her lips slowly. 'I wonder if he always tastes of lemon,' she thought idly, letting the memory wash over her taste buds. The day was made all the better, because she knew he would stay, and she could find out first hand. The quiet chime of the clock brought her back, and she shook her head quickly, scattering her thoughts.

There was still one last thing she needed to do if she was going to get ready for dinner later that evening, and the sooner it was finished, the longer her bath could be. Reaching into her right drawer, Minerva wrapped her slim fingers around a thin chain and lifted it out. The gold glittered in the sunlight, and the hourglass hanging from it was heavy in her hands. She watched it sway softly back and forth, hypnotic in its own way, before she blinked.

It appeared as if she wouldn't have to wait another twenty years as she did last time before another exceptional student would ask for the device. Her thoughts wandered back to Miss Granger's misadventures with the small device, as well as he own as a student, and Minerva was willing to admit she was a little hesitant to risk it again. Even she had a limit before the grey hairs would begin to arrive, and the trio had all but reached it. Granted, Daniel Ives was nowhere near as _involved _as Miss Granger was, but somehow he could still find his fair share of adventure.

Pushing her chair back with an obnoxious scrape that set her teeth on edge, Minerva stood up and made her way toward the Charms classroom. Classes would be ending in a matter of minutes, and she wanted to catch the young man before he got lost in his afternoon pursuits. Wrapping the tiny hourglass tightly in her hand, Minerva stepped out into the corridor. She got as far as the staircase before she saw another soul, or in this case, a ghost.

Floating just above the ground and wearing on of Filches mop buckets as a helmet, Peeves was busy attaching moustaches to various suits of armor that lined the long halls. Several of them were already done, and those that weren't were busy trying to block their visors. Unfortunately, they were far too rusty to put up much of a fight.

Minerva brought her hand up to cover her smile. The poltergeist was a pest, but she had to admit most of his pranks were funny, as long as you weren't on the receiving end. She still remembered the morning Albus came to the great hall with purple hair after Peeves had put dye in his shampoo bottle.

Schooling her features, Minerva moved silently to stand behind him while Peeves hummed a nonsense song to himself, getting glue everywhere. She leaned toward him, careful not to brush against him. She never could get used to the cold feeling touching a ghost produced. "Peeves, what are you doing?"

The poltergeist whirled around, the bottle of glue in one hand, a moustache in the other, and one plastered to his own face. The length of it would have done Albus proud. "Peeves is just redecorating Deputy ma'am," Peeves drawled in his oily voice. There were only three people in the castle that he would never dare cross. Luckily, she happened to be one of them. "What did Argus try to do this time?" she asked patiently. Peeves bobbed up and down and began waving his arms wildly, glue sloshing out over the edge of his can, falling on Minerva's shoes. He never seemed to notice.

"Peeves was only floating along, minding his own business, when Filchey decided to smack him with a broom."

"And where, exactly, were you floating?" Peeves mumbled a reply that sounded remarkably like, "the second floor women's bathroom." Minerva closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to suppress a shudder. She made a mental note to talk to Argus in the morning, and find out exactly what he was doing in a woman's bathroom. Sometimes, that man could be down right disturbing.

"Peeves, I've told you before to stay out of our bathroom. No one wants to walk in and see you floating there with a camera. Especially," she said, looking down over the rim of her glasses, "when the pictures end up plastered all over the castle. And second, if you insist on punishing the caretaker, don't take it out on the armor. They haven't done anything to you. If you insist on being creative, please confine it to his office." The last bit she said with a smile. "Just don't tell him I sent you. You're not the only one he chases with a broom."

Taken aback, Peeves broke out in a toothy grin and saluted before turning tail and flying away in the direction of Argus' office.

When Peeves had finally turned the corner, Minerva finally chuckled before waving her wand and removing the offending facial hair from the row of armor. In thanks, the mind numbing sound of metal against metal filled the air as the armor came to attention before her, all helmets turning in her direction. "You're welcome boys," she nodded.

Minerva turned on her heel, and stepped forward without thinking. To her surprise, there was nothing underneath it for her foot to land on. She had forgotten about the staircase until it was too late, and Minerva could feel herself pitch forward into the air.

Her normally superb balance failed her as she began to fall, and the world around her slowed to a crawl. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and her frantic breathing filled the air. It was almost as if she could see herself falling, arms flaying wildly, the shocked cries of the portraits following her.

Just as quickly, time seemed to speed up, and with a sickening thump and a single breath, there was darkness. The portraits watched, bewildered, as she landed in a heap of emerald robes before disappearing without a trace. None of them had seen the time tuner shatter beneath her. Minerva McGonagall was gone, and the bath would have to wait.

Minerva could feel consciousness seep into the recesses of her mind, pulling her out of the blissful nothingness that had enveloped her. Her mind was telling her that she was face down, and what ever was beneath her was cold, but that information made no sense. The cause of her odd situation came flooding back to her, and she waited a heartbeat, and then two, but there was nothing. Despite the fact that she had fallen down a flight of stairs and landed flat on her face, there was no pain

Unable to believe it, Minerva opened her emerald eyes cautiously, almost afraid of what she would see. She was, indeed, lying on the stone floor at the base of the staircase, still very much in the castle. 'So this is what being dead feels like,' she thought humorlessly. She slowly drew her knees up underneath her, and let out a yelp when her hand landed in the shards of the broken time turner. Turning her hands over, she was surprised to see the little shards of glass the protruded from the very palm Albus had kissed to tenderly just a few hours before. She watched, fascinated, as the pain increased along with the tiny drops of blood. "Well, there goes that theory," she said wryly.

Deciding it would just be faster, Minerva got her feet, careful to avoid the rest of the glass, and walked back up the stairs, toward the hospital wing. There was no point in going to see Mr. Ives now, and the Hospital Wing was on her way to Minerva's chambers. Minerva trudged along the empty corridors, cursing her own stupidity, when she passed a window overlooking the grounds. She took another two or three steps before she stopped and turned back. Not sure of what she had seen Minerva walked back to the window and looked down, not believing what her eyes told her.

Instead of the vast sea of green that the window normally overlooked, Minerva saw rows upon rows of dirt strips. At the end of each strip, there was a single wooden post with a dummy tied to it. They were life sized, and if it wasn't for the way they swung in the wind, Minerva would have been sure they were students.

More confused than she could ever remember, Minerva's steps increased on her way to see the nurse. Perhaps she had hit her head going down after all, but for the first time, Minerva could sense an unease in the pit of her stomach. The normal calming hum of the castle's magic was different. It had changed in a way she couldn't name, heavier, more sinister.

Looking around, Minerva began to notice other differences as well. The usual portraits had disappeared; all of them had been replaced with landscapes or removed all together. 'What the hell is going on," Minerva wondered. She needed to see Poppy, and then a trip to Albus' office was in order. She couldn't have been unconscious long enough for anything serious to have happened, could she? And where, had those dummies come from? Too many questions, and not enough answers flowed through her head.

Minerva reached the ward and entered without knocking. "Madam Pomfrey," she called out, just encase students were about. "You know the rules, if you're conscious, you're well enough for classes." A woman came bustling around the corner, but Minerva couldn't believe her eyes. It was Poppy Pomfrey, of that Minerva was certain, but the woman couldn't have looked more different. Instead of the slightly plump woman she had seen at breakfast, Minerva looked at a wisp of a woman. Circles, black as night, circled her eyes, and wrinkles invaded every inch of her face.

Poppy came bustling toward her, not bothering to look up from the stack of supplies in her arms. "Didn't you hear me? Back to class with you. Tell you're classmates to bring you back if it gets worse." She continued on her way and began stocking the shelves. Minerva stood rooted to the spot, her mouth agape, as she tried to put the words together.

The only thing she managed to sputter out was, "Poppy!"

The other woman stopped, her hand hovering in the air, before she set the flask down gently and turned around. She looked back at Minerva with cold, unfeeling eyes. "Who are you?" Her words were harsh, and Minerva visibly flinched.

"Poppy, this isn't funny. What's.." but she was cut off. For the second time in her life, Minerva was silenced as a red light streaked toward her, and she fell to the ground.

Minerva groaned as again, she flitted back to consciousness, but this time, it was far from painless. Her head was pounding in time with the throb in her hand, and her shoulders were sore from being wrenched behind her. She could hear voices, all recognizable, but inconceivable given her present circumstances.

Opening her eyes just enough to see, she listened. "I've tried every counter charm I know headmaster, and made up a few just for good measure, and I'm telling you. It's not a glamour. It's been too long for it to be Polyjuice, so I don't know how she's done it."

Minerva would recognize Filius' squeaky voice anywhere, but she couldn't understand why Albus would have her tied up and left on the floor. She was shocked when the second voice spoke, and it wasn't Albus. "That does me no good Filius," Severus drawled. "What I want to know is who she is, and how she got into my castle. If she's a member of the underground, I need to know why she's here. Do whatever you deem necessary, but I want the answers by dinner tonight."

"If I may headmaster," Poppy interjected. "I have another idea. She was already bleeding, so I ran it against Minerva's old medical file. I hadn't been able to get rid of it after..Well, when I ran the comparison, it was a match. I don't know how or why, but that is Minerva McGonagall. I suggest we turn her over to the praetorian guard. They can take her to the Minister. I'm sure, if nothing else, he can get the information you require with..the least amount of discomfort for her."

Severus looked across the room at Minerva's body before nodding. "Alright, Filius call the guard and inform the Minister. I take it you've already healed her hand Poppy?"

"Of course," she sounded indignant. "Some things don't change headmaster."

"And others do, despite our best efforts. Get her ready for transport."

Poppy waited until Severus left before turning and stopping at Minerva's side. "You can open your eyes; I know you're awake." Minerva blinked and looked up at a visibly suspicious nurse.

"Poppy, what is going on?"

Poppy just shook her head, pulling Minerva to her feet. Minerva heard her mutter a few words, and the pain in her head and shoulders disappeared. "The praetorian will be here soon," Poppy said quickly. "I don't know who or what you are, but listen to me. Do not say a word until you reach the Minister's office. I don't know how you got here, but even the trees have ears." Her eyes shifted across the room before falling back on Minerva. "If you really are Min, then do as I told you. This isn't the same world you left. Remember, not a word."

Soon, a group of men, many of whom she recognized from the Aurors' office, arrived and carried her away. The trip was as uneventful as it could be. She followed Poppy's advice and remained silent in the face of their questions.

They arrived by floo powder in the Ministry, and she was quickly brought to the Minister's office. She still couldn't understand what was happening, or why she was standing outside the Minister's office when one had yet to be elected.

Things were happening too fast for her mind to register everything, but nothing could have prepared her for what laid beyond the door. With a quick knock, the thick oak door swung open, and Minerva was unceremoniously pushed into the office. A lone person stood, his back to her, staring out the window. He had silver hair, trimmed short and close to his head. He was tall and broad shouldered, and, instead of robes, he wore a something that looked like black armor.

Minerva couldn't help but gasp when he turned around, her heart dropping to the ground and shattering. "Albus!"


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Alright everyone, this is sort of a bridge chapter. I promise it will pick up again with the next one. It was actually hard to get it out this time. I went through two separate drafts of this chapter, so I hope it meets with your expectations. I was reading the reviews, of which I got many squee and I hope I haven't horribly confused everyone. Answers will be forthcoming I promise. Now, enough of my rambling; on with the story!

Minerva could feel the breath slip from her body as the tiny shards of her heart were crushed to dust beneath the heels of the guards surrounding her. It was Albus, of that she had no doubt, but he was so utterly different. His change didn't end with a simple haircut. His long beard, the same one she constantly brushed crumbs from, had disappeared. In its place was a simple goatee. His half moon spectacles that had always seemed an extension of his person, we gone. His face carried a few new scars, and his nose had certainly been broken again. But, the greatest, and most disturbing difference, was his eyes. The sky blue and light hearted twinkle of that morning was gone. Instead, she came eye to eye with nothingness. A cold grey had settled there, betraying nothing as they bored into her.

He stared at her, peering into her soul, and giving her a look of utter and complete loathing. Her heart wrenched, but she was unable to look away. She was mesmerized by the steel as it caught faint rays from the sun. She was sure, if she stared long enough, that he would blink and declare that it was all some gigantic mistake, that everything was fine. But, he did not blink. His eyes only hardened further, anger seeping out of his every pore. She couldn't stand it any longer, and for the first time since she had met him, Minerva was forced to look away from Albus in agony. Any part of her heart that had remained intact was now dust being blown away with the wind.

She stood, unbelieving as the taller man to her right stepped forward, bowing as he came to a stop. "Minister, the woman you requested sir."

"Were there any difficulties?"

"No sir," he replied, reaching into his traveling cloak. He handed her wand to Albus. "She came without protest. She did refuse to answer any of our questions. I thought it prudent to wait for your instructions before beginning the interrogation."

"Very good Roberts. You are dismissed; I will handle it from here. See that the door closes on your way out." The entire time he spoke, Albus never removed his eyes from her, making it difficult for her not to squirm.

With another quick bow, Roberts turned on his heel, and the entire contingent walked back through the door, leaving the two very much alone. Albus tilted his head slightly to the side, watching her simply stand there like a lost child. Leisurely, he began to roll her wand around his fingers, watching it spin, a small spark coming from the end. The wand suddenly stopped and the irons that had bound her wrists opened and fell to her feet with a crash. Minerva rubbed her wrists gingerly as she stared at them in disgust.

"Come, sit," he ordered, motioning to the seat before his desk. "I hardly think I need to worry about an assassination, do I?" Cautiously, Minerva moved farther into the room, watching his every move. Gracefully, she lowered herself into the chair directly across from him, folding her hands in her lap. The only sign of her inner turmoil was the way she twisted her fingers together.

"Albus, what on.." She was cut off as he sudden rose from his seat.

"You will be silent!" He stepped out from around his desk, and with a wave of his hand, her chair spun around to face him. Minerva winced at the sudden movement and the groan of the wood against the rough stone flooring.

This new Albus cut a menacing figure as he loomed over her. With the warmth missing from his eyes, and the armor and trousers he now wore, Albus looked far more like a soldier than the scholar she had fallen in love with.

He strode forward until their legs were almost touching, and she could feel the heat radiating from him in waves. He leaned forward, putting his weight on the arm rests on either side of her, blocking any thought she may have had of escape. She took in a sharp breath, and vaguely noted he no longer smelled of sandalwood. Whatever the new odor was, it made her stomach roll. Their noses were almost touching, and the very thing that had enthralled her that morning now, inexplicably, caused her to fill with dread.

"You even smell like her. Not many women smell of vanilla anymore." He pushed back and began to pace in front of her. "I must say, I am very much impressed, and that is saying something. You must have spent a considerable amount of time preparing for your little jaunt. You look just how I remember her, just as beautiful, just as graceful. You even managed her nervous tick," he motioned to her hands that she quickly stilled.

"But, you forgot one important little piece of information when you choose a person to impersonate. Minerva McGonagall is and has been for some time, very much dead! Don't you think it's a little odd for her to suddenly show up at the school infirmary? So, tell me. Who were you sent to kill? I hardly think Poppy was the target; was it Severus Snape perhaps?"

"Albus, what the he.." She was cut off again, and she had to bite the tip of her tongue to keep from snapping at him. At this point, she wasn't sure of what his reaction to that would be. Nothing was as it should be.

"I have not given you permission to address me so informally madam. You will show me the respect I am due."

"Oh believe me, I am," she snapped back, her temper getting the better of her. The anger and slight fear that had kept her silent before was beginning to wane. "Would you be so kind as to explain to me, Minister, what the hell is going on! You tell me this morning that the temptation is too great, and the next thing I know, here we are." It had all been a lie, everything that morning had been a lie. And, to make matters worse, he hadn't had the courage to tell her. As the fury began to boil up within her, she completely forgot everything else she had seen that day did the first thing that came to mind.

Albus' head snapped to the side, and his eyes widened in shock. On instinct, he reached out and grabbed the offending hand as she pulled back to slap him again. With a strength she never knew he had, he yanked her to him roughly, bringing her arm behind her. Her face came to rest in the crook of his neck, and for a fleeting instant, she wanted nothing more than to lean into him and take strength in his presence.

But, it was short lived as he released her arm and grabbed her shoulders instead. "You definitely did your homework; Minerva was always the only one brave enough to have done that. So, you are either very brave," he leaned in again, pressing against her shoulders painfully, "or very stupid. I'm not quite sure which it is yet. But, let me make myself perfectly clear. I am not someone to trifle with, and the next time you raise your hand to me, you will lose it. I am perfectly understood?"

His voice never raised above a whisper, but Minerva was sure his words reverberated all the way down to hell. She nodded numbly, her mind working ferociously. Events from the day raced through her brain, and it began to fall into place. "My hand," she whispered, forgetting Albus was there for a moment.

"Yes, your hand. I grant you, it is a very beautiful hand, but you could live with only one. And, I don't know what you think may have occurred, but we certainly did not dine together this morning. Now, I want to know what your name is, your _real _name."

Minerva stared at her hand, which had begun to tremble ever so slightly. Events were falling into place, but she couldn't conceive a future where this was Albus. The man who had mourned the death of a butterfly on a warm springs day could never turn into the monster that stood before her. "The muggles got it right," she said.

"Excuse me?" Albus questioned, confused.

"Minister, what is the date?"

Albus' eyes narrowed and he leaned against his desk, his arms crossing in front of him. "I fail to see how that relates to your name, but today is November first."

Minerva shook her head quickly. "No, I mean, what's the year? When is it?"

"It's 2002 of course. Now kindly answer my question before I lose what is left of my patience." Minerva stared up at him, dumbstruck. It had only taken four years.

Albus watched, somewhat confused, as Minerva began to shake in her chair. At first, he thought the strange imposter was coming to her senses and the reality of her situation was beginning to set in, but then, Minerva began to laugh. It bubbled up from deep within her; all of her doubts and fears, all of her nervous energy tore through her and escaped in the only way that it could. She laughed until her sides ached, and her head began to spin, making her laugh harder.

The sound, however, was anything but funny. It was a wretched, dry sound that should have caused even the bravest of souls to weep. "Four years," she managed to choke out. "All of this in four years."

Albus' tentative hold on his temper was teetering on the edge of oblivion. "I hardly think that your situation is something I would call funny. If you cannot answer a simple question, then you leave me with little other alternative. You will be turned over to the praetorian guard for further questioning. I will warn you now; they can be rather..persuasive when they choose to be."

The laugh died in Minerva's throat and she stood but Albus did not back away. He watched with interest as, for the first time since she entered the office, Minerva reached out and touched him.

Her hand came to rest just above his heart, and the leather covering his chest was cool and smooth to the touch. "If you're trying to harm me, the armor is spell proofed; it will do you no good."

"Oh Albus," Minerva sighed, "what could have happened to you? How could it have come to this?"

She let her fingers slide down and finally away from his body. She turned her back on him and walked around his desk, but she stopped at its edge. There, sitting alone was a single silver picture frame. It was a picture of them, taken six years before at the Yule Ball. One of her Gryffindor's had snapped the photo as they were dancing, and had given a copy to each of them when he had graduated. Minerva watched as the couple twirled and swayed to music that could no longer be heard. She watched herself throw her head back in laughter at a joke she couldn't begin to recall. Her own copy of the cherished keepsake sat in a similar frame in her office.

"I always loved dancing with you," she whispered, more to herself than him, but he heard her and stepped closer. She turned from him and gazed out the window. It looked down upon a small park. There was a solitary pond without a single duck to disturb the surface. The tree held no leaves, and the flowers had long since died. It was desolate, and it fit perfectly with her mood.

"You were always so light on your feet, so free. It's like flying..without fearing the fall. I could have stayed there forever. That was such an amazing night." You said you would never.."

She cleared her throat. "I am exactly who I appear to be, despite what you seem to believe, and we have much to discuss if I am to return home. I don't know what happened to you, but this is not the world in which I belong."

Albus watched as she leaned against the window frame, wrapping her arms around herself and the photo protectively. Every fiber of his being screamed plot, but he couldn't deny that smallest of flutters that reappeared as she looked at him with those eyes or the tone in her voice.

"I know that look Albus," she said. She had been watching his reflection in the glass for the last few minutes. "Ask your question. I don't bite..much."

Albus bristled and drew himself up to his full height. "If you are Minerva, then how did you get here? What were you doing at Hogwarts?"

Minerva turned away from the window and leaned against his winged back chair. "It should be obvious what I was doing at Hogwarts. It's called teaching Albus; it is, after all, what you pay me to do." She wiped away the single tear that had trailed down her cheek. "As for how I got here, that's a story I only know the beginning to."

It took all of her strength not to jump when his hand, ever so gently, lifted her chin. "How can you be?" His voice was soft, almost tender.

Minerva just gave an ironic grin and quirked her head. "I was just wondering the same thing about you Minister. I wondered the same thing."

He simply stared into her eyes before resetting her shattered heart with a single word. "Minerva," he breathed, closing his tormented eyes. When they opened again, for the briefest glimpse, they were his again. Before she could react, she found herself wrapped securely in his arms, being squeezed to within an inch of her life. When he pulled away he had regained his composure. "Come, I want you to tell me everything." He grasped her hands in his and pulled her through another door, shutting it behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

The door had barely snapped shut behind them before the awkward silence began. Minerva shuddered as her breath danced before her eyes; the room was absolutely frigid. "I'm not in here often," he said in way of an explanation. With a wave of his hand, the fire sprang to life, roaring and filling the room with much needed warmth.

Minerva looked around the circular room, and for the first time since her fall, she felt at ease in her surroundings. While his office had been tidy, even spartan, in its decor, this room was all Albus. Burgundy wallpaper carpeted the walls, and the familiar spinning objects that usually adorned his office, now sat, waiting, in what she could only assume was his private chambers.

There was one difference; there were no photographs on his walls. There were no reminders of friends, family, not even his favorite landscape of the Dover cliffs. For some reason, this fact alone brought about a great and unending wave of pity for the shell of a man that sat beside her, staring intently.

He led to her the small love seat beside the fire before leaving her alone and walking through another door. When he returned, her breath hitched in her throat. He wrapped a tartan throw around her shoulders, one that looked remarkably like the one currently hanging over the back of her favorite chair.

Watching her face, Albus sat down beside her and wrapped her hands between his larger ones. His hands atop of hers were warm, gentle, just as she remembered them, even if the silver ring with the Ministry's symbol at its center practically railed against the familiarity. She watched, fascinated, as his thumb automatically began to rub small, light circles on the back of her hand just as he had always done.

Even with all she had seen, and all he had said, Minerva couldn't contain the thrill that shot down her spine at his touch"I had to have something," he said, answering her unasked question, carefully avoiding her gaze by staring into the fire. "When you..she died, I had to have something, anything that would keep her with me. Without it, all of those years were nothing but a dream."

His hand ran through his short hair, making it stick up at an odd angle. "It just doesn't make sense, I don't understand how this," he emphasized with a waving hand, "can be possible. How Minerva?"

'How like him,' she thought wryly. 'A simple question for the most complex of questions.' She had spent years watching him, and had perfected the technique as well. "I don't have the foggiest."

There was no reaction; no twinkle, no hint of amusement anywhere to be seen. Instead, there was only ill concealed impatience. She dropped her gaze, and a light flush covered her cheeks. "I was walking from my office to the Charms classroom with a time turner in my hand. I had to stop and have a small chat with Peeves about the appropriate uses for facial hair. It was my fault really; I forgot the stairs were behind me, and when Peeves floated away, I took a step backward before turning. I fell, and when I landed the turner broke. When I woke up, I was here, wherever here is. All I know is I've moved four years into the future, and.." she paused, reaching forward, making him look at her. "I'm not impressed with what I see. Guards, body armor Albus, and what on earth was that monstrosity on the lawns? It looked like a firing range."

"It was," he said unapologetically. "How else would the students practice, and as for the guards and armor, things have changed." That hint of steel was back in his voice as he got to his feet and began pacing.

"Practicing," Minerva repeated, aghast, "What have you become?"

"Be careful Minerva; even with you, my patience has its limits. You would do well not to forget yourself."

"Oh I haven't, but it seems you have." Before she knew what was happening, Minerva found herself pressed firmly against the back wall, Albus utterly surrounding her.

"Do not dare lecture me on things you could never understand!" The cold fury from the other room was back in full force, and Albus was literally glowing with rage. He was shaking, his breath labored, while hers had stopped altogether, unable to leave her chest. Again silence reigned, Albus trying to reel himself in, and Minerva for the first time, truly afraid of him.

"Then make me understand," she finally managed to choke out. The steel faded away as pain took its place. He leaned closer, their noses almost touching, but not quite.

"Alright." He pushed away, but never took his eyes off of her. "She died. The final battle came and went, and..so did she. She was caught by Lucius Malfoy in the back. She was left, completely bloody, and face down in the mud for me to find. I did find her Minerva, and she died in my arms. I lost the only woman I've ever loved, and in that instant, I vowed to never let it happen again. Lucius had gone into hiding shortly after Voldemort fell, and it took weeks for me to locate him. Oh, but I did find him."

Albus eyes took on a far away glint, and a sadistic smile flitted across his lips. "You know, he screamed like a woman long before I finished with him. People were always skeptical when I said there were things worse than death, but Lucius knows from personal experience. He's spending the rest of his life at home, in all his comforts, relieving every one of his worst memories. The scourge of the dementors without the promised release of insanity. I could think of nothing more fitting. It didn't take long after that to round up the remaining Death Eaters. Rufus resigned shortly later in disgrace, and again, I was offered the Minister's position. There was no longer a reason for me to remain at Hogwarts, so I entered the election. The vote was unanimous Minerva. The people craved my leadership, and I gave it to them. I've spent the last four years rooting out corruption, eliminating poverty. I've bettered our world, even if there are those who do not approve of my methods. The people are happy Minerva, and the world is safe. No one ever has to lose a loved one as I lost you again. I will not apologize for doing what was necessary Minerva. I had thought she would approve; you always said that our world should be safer."

Minerva was numb. She had expended anything, everything but the words that slipped like honey from his lips. "Safer yes," she croaked, the rising bile burning the back of her throat. "But, not this, never this."

Her death had caused it all, her loss drove him to create the madness around them, and Minerva wanted nothing more than to leave it again. He had become exactly what he had feared, what he spent a better part of his life warring against, and it made her want to wretch.

She looked down at her hands, her thumb running along the non existent wound. 'Wait,' she thought, her mind beginning to work itself out of its shock induced stupor. The catalyst was impossible. There was no way for this to be real. She had survived the war, so this future couldn't be possible. But, then how did she end up here?

Minerva looked up, her eyes traveling from his boot clad feet, past the ridiculous chest plate he wore, and up into his eyes, and had to hold back a laugh despite herself. He looked exactly like a child playing dejected war hero. He was pouting, and his shoulders were slumped. Apparently, her answer wasn't what he wanted to hear.

Minerva couldn't bear to sit any longer and shot to her feet. She found herself behind the love seat, unconsciously putting distance between them. "Albus, I didn't die in the battle."

Albus recoiled as if slapped again, before viciously shaking his head. "No, you did! I was there; I held you." He began pacing before the fire, muttering to himself.

"Albus, I survived. It was the first of November, today, that I broke the time turner. I've been alive for the last week. Look at me," she demanded. Waiting for him stop, Minerva continued. "The question now, is how did I get here, and where exactly is here."

"Two excellent questions," he said, his voice slightly huskier than ususal. His pacing had stopped next to a straight backed arm chair, and he had its back clenched tightly beneath his hand. It seemed to come as no shock to him, but Minerva almost fell backward as the chair burst into flames underneath his touch.

"I've never heard of anything like this, have you?" she asked, never taking her eyes away from the smoldering chair.

Albus just shook his head while he extinguished the fire, before sending it away with a wave of his hand. He rubbed the side of his face before letting it drop, his chin resting on his chest as it tended to do when he was thinking. "No, but given that the grains were exposed to air, there's nothing we can be certain of at the moment."

He was going to continue, but Minerva interrupted him. "Why would air affect the device?" Albus was genuinely surprised by the question. He was sure that Minerva would have understood the delicate process that went into the devices construction, especially if she were allowing the students access.

"There's a reason that they've always been so heavily regulated Minerva. It takes an extraordinary amount of energy to create one, or I should say, the environment for one." Her brows knitted together in confusion. " It's not a simple matter of taking an hourglass, saying a few spells, and you can travel through time. The enchantments are placed on the grains themselves. For it to be effective, they have to be isolated from everything else. It's a vacuum Minerva. There is no air in the hourglass. When the vacuum is broken, all of that energy is released into the surrounding area. When you add the fact that blood also entered the mixture, I'm surprised you didn't blow up the school. The last time that the grains came into contact with air, we managed to lose half of muggle London to a massive fire. This would appear to be another side effect; one I much prefer."

Instead of blushing as he had hoped and expected, Minerva's skin paled slightly, and her eyes took on a sad, far off, look

"Alright," she said slowly, "it moved me forward, but how does that explain this?" she asked gesturing at him accusingly.

"You have managed to do what thousands before only dreamed of. You've moved sideways." There was a gleam in his eyes that she had never seen, and the intensity of it made her toes curl.

"For every choice we make, there is one that goes unexplored," he said quietly, slowly making his way toward her. He looked almost predatory, but Minerva couldn't back away. "You have found yourself in the land of your unexplored choices, another universe if that makes it clearer. In your reality, you survived, so my Minerva died. But," he whispered, trapping her against the back of his love seat between his arms, "for once, luck is with me, and I get a second chance. And, I don't intend to waste it."

She shuddered against him as he gently kissed the shell of her ear, and she felt him smile. Confusion and rage flowed freely through her, and refused to sit idly by. With a strength neither knew she possessed, Minerva pushed him away. "Don't," she hissed.

Shock quickly faded and hurt replaced it. "Don't you love me Minerva? She told me she did, and that couldn't have changed as well. I loved you for so long, and now you're back. Please," he was almost begging, his eyes pleading to hear those three simple words flow from her.

"I do love him, with all my heart." She put a hand up to stop his joyful advance. "I love my Albus. The kind hearted, loving man I know. And, I'm sorry, but you stopped being him long ago. I'm sorry."

He stared at her, his breath coming in short gasps and his eyes swirling with something Minerva couldn't identify. She watched as the swirling slowly faded back into the nothingness he was so good at projecting. "Well, that is bound to change, because there is nothing known that will take you back to him. You are here now Minerva, and this is where you will stay. Furthermore," he started, but was interrupted when an authoritative knock came from the other room.

"Enter," he growled, and one of the praetorian guards waked though. If he found anything odd in the situation, Albus standing over the frame of a trembling woman, he made no indications of it. With what Minerva was beginning to believe was a requisite bow, he spoke.

"I'm sorry to disturb you Minister, but there is trouble down in the green sector. Do wish for us to handle it, or would you prefer to see to it yourself. I know you are very busy."

Albus waved off the supposed concern. "No, we'll make an appearance." His eyes turned back to Minerva. "Would you like to take a tour Minerva? This will be your home; I wouldn't want you to get lost."

Straightening up, he held out his hand, but she just clenched her hands in front of her and walked toward the door. The praetorian made a move to stop her, but Albus stopped him. "No! This woman is to be shown the same respect and courtesy you show to me. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir!" Came the quick reply, before the guard stepped aside, coming to attention once again as Minerva passed by.

"I do so love a challenge," Albus grinned as he passed through the door.

* * *

A great fluttering could be heard, and a row of disjointed former headmasters made its way across Albus' wall before Armando was almost knocked from his chair by the intruder. "What in the.." he began.

"Headmaster," the panting figure of Elfric the Uncanny panted. "Sir, something's happened. It's Professor McGonagall."

Albus dropped the quill in his hand, splattering ink, as he stared up into the portrait. All sounds of chatter from the other occupants had ceased, and they all waited for his reaction. Time seemed to stop as images of her face that morning passed before him, and he almost couldn't bring himself to ask.

"What happened to Minerva? Is she alright?" His voice was hoarse, and his throat constricted as Elfric shook his head.

"I don't know sir. She fell down a flight of stairs, and she simply disappeared with a blinding flash."


	5. Chapter 5

Complete and boundless terror is an interesting feeling. Albus could see everything around him, was aware of it, but he wasn't a part of it. The frantic beating of his heart pounded in his ears, and he watched as the portraits flayed their arms in uproar. 'She's gone,' he thought, 'Minerva's gone.'

It all seemed surreal. They were friends for so long, and when, finally, it appeared they could be so much more, she had disappeared. He could see her face, her smile; he could hear her laughter floating through the air, overpowering his own rapid heartbeat. He vaguely heard Armando calling his name, and the order to fetch Severus.

He sat, stunned, until the fire roared and Severus uncurled himself from the hearth with inhuman grace. "Headmaster, I hope this is import..what happened?" Severus could barely keep himself from recoiling as Albus turned to face him. His face was pale, making death look animated. His eyes were flat, dead, and his entire body shook.

"Minerva's gone," he whispered, hardly believing it himself.

"What! Why? Where did she go?" Albus only shook his head wearily, gesturing toward the portrait with Elfric hopping up and down madly.

"She fell Professor! She fell down the stairs and disappeared in a blinding light. I've never seen anything like it."

"What kind of light? Was there anyone or anything else around? Was she carrying anything?" He spoke, his questions firing faster than Elfric could answer.

The tiny man had finally stopped hopping, and now stood wringing his hands together nervously. "I..I didn't see anyone sir, but she was carrying something," he added quickly when Severus took a step forward.

"Well, what was it?" Severus spat out, growing impatient. Elfric jumped.

"I don't know," he almost wailed. "It was in her hand. I couldn't see it well; it was small, on a chain. I heard a crunch when she hit the floor, like glass breaking. Maybe it was a vile."

Before Severus could blink, Albus had jumped to his feet, knocking over his chair with a resounding crash. "Are you positive you heard glass breaking? Are you certain!" His voice was strained, and his eyes wide. The ever controlled headmaster looked absolutely wild as his long hair flowed out behind him and his hands clawed at the air. It was a horrifying sight.

"Yes sir, it was a shatter." Elfric said timidly.

"Headmaster, what," but Albus was already running through the door in a flurry of purple robes.

Albus' boots pounded through the corridors, echoing off the ancient stones surrounding him. 'Dear gods don't let it be,' he thought, willing his legs to move faster. He pushed his way into her office, never taking in the cooling cup of tea that sat on the corner, or the copy of Emma that sat next to it. All of his attention was focused on the single drawer. Reaching out, he pulled it open, cringing at the squeak that followed. He stared down, taking in everything, every corner every speck of dust, before reaching out and pulling himself into her high backed chair.

This is where Severus found him five minutes later as he rounded the doorway. Albus was the very picture of defeat. His head rested in his gnarled hands, his mane of hair covering his face. As he took a step forward, Severus could just make out a small leather case that sat in his lap, so out of place in the pristine office with its tattered and stained corners. Albus looked up when he heard Severus approach. A single tear leaked from his eye, as if that was all he had the strength to muster. Severus watched as he opened the empty leather case, and his eyes fell on the fading gold lettering inside. _Time Turner registry #1324_. "Dear gods," Severus whispered. "She's lost."

* * *

The sound of steady footfalls was the only one to be heard as the unusual group left the office. The guards didn't dare speak out of turn, and Minerva had to many thoughts and questions on her mind to find a voice for. It all seemed impossible, irrational to her logical mind.

It seemed she was stuck in her own personal hell. Not only had she found and lost her love all in one day, but it appeared as if she would be forced to spend the rest of her days with his sadistic twin. 'Albus certainly knows himself well,' she thought wryly as their conversation that morning came, unbidden, to her mind. Would there ever be a time she could look at him and not shudder? Minerva didn't think so, but they do say time breeds familiarity. After all, when Severus first began to teach, she couldn't stand the sight of him. Now, it only made her cringe.

This Albus did genuinely seem to care for her, in his own warped way. Perhaps there was someway to bring the man he used to be back to the surface. She dug through the short amount of time they spent together, but she could only see the flashes of anger and pain. With every sneer, every jab, her heart grew just a bit harder, colder. There was only one look, one instant in it all, that gave her hope. Could that be enough, for either of them? "What's green sector?" she asked before she had even processed the question.

He looked over at her, surprised, before staring ahead once again. "That was one of my more brilliant ideas, and, if I may say, that's saying something. When I took office, some..resistance arose. A few groups decided they didn't approve of my methods, and tried to remove me. It took a rather nasty hex to the chest before I thought of it."

For a moment, his hand ghosted over his chest plate, before balling in a fist and falling to his side one more. "That's why you wear the armor," she said. They both knew it wasn't a question, but Albus nodded.

"It took almost a year of careful planning. I needed to be sure that each sector was appropriately cared for, and that every citizen fit their sector. You wouldn't want to put someone that belonged in the gold sector in the green; the system would collapse. So," he said as they came to a stop before a giant wall. He reached forward and put his hand on a worn stone, and the barrier disappeared. They stepped out onto a walkway overlooking what appeared to be housing below. "We color coded everyone," he finished the thought, gesturing out over the area. "This is green sector."

Minerva looked out over the rooftops and was instantly appalled. The ramshackle houses were covered in debris, and they looked as if even the rats wouldn't take refuge there. "You cannot be serious!" she said incredulously. "People actually live here?

"Of course," he said defensively. "It's a ramshackle group, I'll admit, but if they could be bothered to clean up after themselves instead of acting like animals, it could be quite pleasant."

"What do you expect Albus?" she asked, moving toward a set of stairs a little further down. "You corralled them like animals, so how else should they act? What I don't understand is why they don't just use the basic cleaning spells. It would at least take the edge off this mess."

"That's what makes the system so perfect Minerva," he said, pulling her away from the stairs with a shake of his head. With a glance, the praetorians formed a line along the railing, blocking her exit. "The color of their sector determines the amount of magic they're allowed. Green sector, due to their unruliness, is utterly suppressed."

Minerva's jaw dropped even as her eyes grew larger. Even mishandling another person's wand was a punishable offense, but to utterly take their magic, it should be possible. "You couldn't," she chocked, horrified. "It can't be done."

"I found a way," he said, stepping forward for every one of her's back, his eyes gleaming ominously. She didn't stop until she backed into the one the guards, and she jumped, startled by the contact. "Look at them," he said, turning her toward the homes.

People had started to emerge from their respective shacks. They were all fairly clean, but worn looking. It was as if the dead had come to life once again. What caught her eye, however, was the faint green glow coming from each walking corpse. They were wearing collars. "The device acts as a magical suppressor. It breaks the link between thought and action with each individual by degrees, depending on the color. It's possible to move up through the different sectors," he added almost as an afterthought.

"You just have to show the overseer that you have changed for the better, and he will bring your case to my attention. I just moved up three families last week."

"Do you chain them up at night as well," she asked sarcastically, "or do you make them fetch your paper in the morning instead?"

Albus' eyes flashed, and he pulled her away from the railing, his tight grip surely leaving bruises. "Perhaps you would care to join them. They're happy Minerva! I've brought order to their world, made them safe. And, they love me for it."

Minerva shook her head, and did what she swore she never would. She began to cry. They were silent tears, slipping of their own accord across her cheeks, before rolling down and landing on the stone beneath their feet. "How long?" Her voice never wavered, never cracked, but it was as if the pain of all the world flowed from her lips.

"How long what?" he asked bewildered, his own heart trying to remember what it was to reach out to another. It was a subtle tug in his chest, a feeling he had long forgotten.

"How long since you walked among them, looked these people in the eye? Can you even remember?"

"I don't need to Minerva. I have overseers to attend their needs."

"Then you are a fool Albus. Look just one of them in the eye, and then tell me they love you. Until then, let me go back. I can't take this, not today, not ever."

"You want proof," he challenged. "Alright. Stand aside," he ordered, and a small window opened within the human shield. As soon as he stepped to the rail, it was as if the very earth itself released the fury of a thousand burning suns. The ground began to shake, and a sound unlike anything ever heard filled the space, rising steadily until the din was all encompassing. Soon, the debris followed. Bottles, rotten food, old newspapers flew through the air in mass, and all was aimed at their exalted leader.

For his part, Albus stood, dumbstruck, as bit after bit of rubbish assaulted him. It wasn't until two guards grabbed him under the arms and forced him back that he was able to shake off his surprise and regained his composure.

Minerva watched as his dead eyes dropped in and out of focus, and it wasn't until they dropped to his boots that she began to understand the chant around them. In a single voice, united in their anonymity, rose the voice of his people. "Death to the tyrant! Long live Potter!"

Minerva watched, a lump forming in her throat as his eyes became alive, calculating. He brushed a banana peel off his shoulder, and pulled the lettuce from the other.

She would never understand what it was she saw next. With a single nod, the guards fled from the walkway and descended into the village below. Soon, screams and shouts filled the air with each new flash of light. It was a sound that would live in her very soul for the rest of her days.

Minerva fought as she was pulled along, struggling to remain behind, but Albus was too strong. Something inside of her finally snapped. She began to beat against him, her fists coming into contact with anything and everything they could to get away. Finally, when simply grabbing her fists failed, Albus reached down and grabbed her around the waist, and carried her back into the Ministry over his shoulder. They continued this way, she screaming while he studiously ignored her, until Minerva was unceremoniously thrown onto the bed in a lavishly decorated bedroom.

She stared at him, wishing for the earth to swallow him whole, while he simply stared back, revealing nothing. "You have your answer Minerva," he said tonelessly.

"So much for their love Albus," she spat, getting up with as much dignity as she could muster. "I knew a man once, a great man. He told me once that even the most altruistic of men can become tyrants in the name of peace. If this is your idea of peace Albus, then I say give me war."

"There is no reason to worry for them Minerva; they will survive. But, they must know that insolence will not be tolerated." He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked up again, she was again surprised at just how old he looked. "You are free to move about as you wish," he began softly. "I would recommend not leaving the building without a guard. You won't have a collar, and could be mistaken for a member of the government. You will not be getting your wand back until I'm sure you can be trusted, and I wouldn't want anything to happen to you. Dinner is at seven in my chambers, join me if you wish; it's up to you."

He turned and moved back toward the door, but he stopped just as he reached for the doorknob. "You may not agree with this world Minerva, but you are now a part of it. There's only so much I can protect you from, but embarrass me like this again, and you won't even have that. You gave me your respect once, I hope that hasn't changed."

For the first time since it all started, Minerva found herself alone in the strange new world as the heavy mahogany door clicked behind him. She looked at the door. "Come into my lair, said the spider to the fly," she whispered before collapsing to her knees in tears.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: I'm bad I spent the last hour of my lecture tonight working on this chapter instead of listening to the professor, but I don't think I missed anything horribly important. I just want to say thanks again to all who have reviewed this story. It's actually one of my favorites, and it's great to see others are enjoying it too. So, enough from me; on with the story.

Minerva rolled onto her back and stretched, languidly, between the rich satin sheets. Her arm came up and covered her eyes against the invading sun with a groan. Snuggling deeper into the warmth, a smile came to her lips as her mind drifted back to the previous morning. Sighing, she allowed herself to drift away in the softness of his lips, the tongue stroked over hers, in the smell that followed him, encompassed him. She even giggled as she remembered the way his beard tickled when it grazed her cheek. Her entire body was warm and fuzzy as she drifted, completely at ease. Her mind drifted along the gently lapping waves that were her thoughts to their next logical progression, the night they were to meet.

With a jolt and sickening clarity, it all rushed back as she shot upright from the pillows. Poppy's odd behavior, the guards, the people, and, oh merlin, his cold eyes. She still couldn't fathom what could cause a man to lose all semblance of himself. She brought her right hand up to her shoulder and winced.

Looking around the empty room quickly, trying to identify any interlopers, Minerva dashed to the small bathroom she had found the night before. Tentatively, she turned several of the handles of the pool sized bath, and was slightly surprised as the smell of lavender filled the room, mixing with the steam from the hot water.

She turned and was faced with a disturbing image, her own face. She was pale, almost deathly so, and the dark circles surrounding her dull eyes only highlighted that fact. Her hair stood out in all directions as it always did if it wasn't tied back, and an angry red patch covered her cheek from where her hand had rested during the night.

Holding her breath and never taking her eyes from the mirror, Minerva began lowering the cotton nightgown she had found in a closet. There, on her left shoulder and upper arm, were two hand sized bruises, marring the otherwise porcelain skin. Squinting, she could even make out the darker band from his ring. Carefully, she skimmed her fingers across the purple expanse, wincing when she found an especially tender portion. It was still a marvelous thought. The very hands that had marked her were the same that had so delicately wiped the tears of a terrified first year just two months prior when she finally realized she wouldn't be going home.

With a sigh, Minerva slipped into the steaming water and let out a groan as it began to loosen her tight muscles. She rested her head back against the marble edge and closed her eyes. Minerva knew she would have to leave eventually, face the world, as it were, but it was the last thing she wanted to do. Right then, it would be the easiest thing in the world to simply slip beneath the water and forget.

She knew she needed help, but she wasn't even sure who was still alive. A fresh wave of loss swept over her at the thought of her friends, those she considered family, and the thought of their loss. In her world, they all survived and were flourishing. But, she had learned quickly that things weren't as they ought to be.

She couldn't stop the sights and sounds from green sector from playing out in front of her eyes. The thought of her fellow witches and wizards living as common slaves, animals, was incomprehensible. The fact that Albus had seemed truly surprised by their reaction almost made her pity him; almost. Minerva's brow furrowed and she sat up in the bath, causing small waves to flow over the side, covering the floor. 'It couldn't be,' she said to the empty room. The peoples words reverberated in her mind, drowning out every other conscious thought. "Long live Potter," they had screamed, moaned.

For the first time, Minerva felt the delicate tightrope of hope lift her up, threatening to throw her off at a moments notice. Harry had opposed him. In this world, the thought made as much sense as anything else. Young Mister Potter surely wouldn't have stood by while his former mentor tried to destroy everything he had fought for, almost died for. At least, her Harry wouldn't.

With a renewed energy, Minerva got out of the bath and set about finishing her morning routine. "Perhaps it's time for a walk," she said to her reflection, putting in the last of the hairpins. "That's the spirit dearie," it called after her.

Smoothing down her robes self consciously, Minerva opened the heavy door and peaked though the crack. When she didn't see anyone, she opened it fully and took a step out. Instinctively, her hand plunged into her burgundy robes when she was startled by a sudden rustling noise on her right. "That's really not the best move around here Professor," a man said, stepping around the corner. It was one of the guards, but he looked strangely familiar.

"And why not?" she retorted.

He smiled, almost shyly, and came to a stop just in front of her, leaning in. "Because, without a wand, you're likely to be blasted before I could do anything." He looked over his shoulders conspiratorially. "I promise my aim is better than when I was a student. But, it helps that there are no blast ended skrewts to backfire on me."

He waited, and wasn't disappointed as recognition dawned in her emerald eyes. Amusement flashed brightly as she remembered the fifth year Gryffindor who almost caused havoc in his Care of Magical Creatures class. Hagrid was at wits end for weeks after that and the skrewts couldn't be coaxed from their cages. Far too quickly though, she remembered exactly where she was, and her walls reemerged.

"Mr. Daniels," she said politely, "it's good to see that you're well."

Jeffery Daniels leaned back and actually laughed, his entire body shaking beneath his own armor. "It's wonderful to see you too Professor. You wouldn't believe the uproar within the division when we were informed of who our guest was. I had to wrestle three other men for this detail." He seemed quite pleased with himself, and Minerva couldn't help but notice just how much he had grown from yesterday morning when she had last seen him.

"Until I'm told otherwise, I am at you complete disposal. Any questions you may have, anywhere you may wish to go, I'll do what I can."

"Take a deep breath Mr. Daniels. You're going to need it. Now," she said walking back toward the entrance they went through the day before, "what can you tell me about green sector?"

Daniels walked with the air of a man fully in command of his surroundings, and given his position, it wasn't far off. But, with that question, he seemed to slow some and began to fidget slightly. "It's not somewhere I would want to be," he admitted softly, before regaining his bearings. "We have four sectors; green, blue, black, and gold. Yes professor," he said, seeing her incredulous expression, "It wasn't lost on me either. Each level advances the amount of magic a person is allowed through the collars. Green has none, blue has the ability to perform basic magic, cleaning spells and levitation, things of that nature. Black is only minimally regulated. They can perform most spells, but there are limitations. Some of the more powerful incantations are held back. Gold sector, however, has no regulation what so ever. All members of the Ministry, the Auror's, the guard, and of course the Minister and yourself, are free of all restriction."

"But," Minerva began before thinking better of it. "How do people end up in the sectors, and how could they allow themselves to be pigeonholed? Wasn't there any resistance to it?"

"It would behoove you, Professor, to never mention resistance again. It is not the safest topic of discussion in these times. As for personal placement, it depends on the amount of threat you possess. If you are deemed an enemy of the state, you are automatically removed to green sector, no mater what you were previously."

"And how did you end up in Gold Sector Mr. Daniels?"

He shrugged. "My grades improved by the end of my seventh year, and I was allowed into Auror training. From there, I was recruited into the praetorian guard. There was nowhere else I could have ended up."

Minerva's mind was reeling with all the information, but one thing did stand out. He never said people would disappear. They always went to green sector. Perhaps there was hope after all. "I see. Mr. Daniels, just what were you told about my sudden appearance?"

Daniels stopped, knitting his brow as if asking such a question was a foreign concept. "We were briefed that you were here, indeed were Professor McGonagall, and that we were to treat you as we would the Minister."

Minerva nodded. She found it interesting that his most trusted lemmings would be so woefully uninformed. This opened up an entirely new avenue for her to explore, but she couldn't do it alone. "Mr. Daniels, I cannot explain exactly what is going on, but suffice to say, things are not as I left them. There are some people I need to find. Can you help me?"

He snapped to attention quickly, eager to be of assistance. Where are the Weasley's? Arthur and Molly in particular?"

Daniels spine stiffened and he dropped his gaze to a point just over her shoulder. "They were one of the first families to arrive in Green sector Professor. They decided they didn't appreciate what the Minister was trying to do for them, for all of us. They dared to speak out against him, tried to recall him. It was sad to see such a prominent family from the war lose sight like that."

As little as this surprised Minerva, given the people, to hear of their fate ripped through her. "What about Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, Hermione Granger? What became of them?" Her voice had gained a slight quake by the time she reached her favorite student, but Daniels eyes didn't soften in assurance.

"Moody and Tonks both also ended up in Green sector. Tonks was trying to calm an internal conflict and was killed two years ago. Moody, I believe is still alive, but no one has heard from him in the last six months. As for Hermione," he said, his cheeks flushing slightly, "she's currently the transfiguration professor at Hogwarts. She's doing a fine job Professor. You would be proud."

"I always was," she whispered. "Tell me about the school. Is the curriculum changed much? Are the Gryffindors still dominating the Quidditch field?" Her heart sunk just a bit lower as he shook his head.

"No, the students don't play Quidditch anymore. They also added a secondary defense class to the curriculum. The students learn some of the more powerful spells as well as tactics for those who show an aptitude. Everyone who leaves Hogwarts leaves in at least the black sector unless their professors request a different setting. What happens next is up to them."

Minerva shook her head at the idiocy she found herself surrounded by. "Mr. Daniels," she said hesitantly, finally coming to a stop in front of that now familiar solid wall. "I'm allowed to go where I wish, anywhere I wish, correct?"

He nodded his head slowly, not caring for the direction the conversation had taken. "I want to see the Weasley's."

They moved down the stairs and into a world within a world, Minerva's feet slipping slightly on th slick steps. There was an odd pressure that filled the atmosphere, making sound impossible and breathing difficult.

Minerva shivered as they cleared the last step, coming face to face with a long forgotten people. As they walked through the abandoned streets, clutter swirling around their clicking heels, Minerva could make out dozens of eyes staring out through barely parted curtains before fluttering closed hurriedly as they walked by.

They passed down another block, stopping only as a ginger cat dasshed out from behind an overturned trash can. They stopped in front of a home, one of the less shabby in the neighbrohood, a testament to the family within. With three quick knocks, all they could do to wait.

There was a shuffling sound from behind the plank that passed for the door before it opened a sliver with a creak. Two hazel eyes and a mop of silver hair filled the crevice. "What do you want?"

"I would watch your tone madam." Daniels was about to push through the door, but he fell silent and still at Minerva's harsh glare.

"Is the Weasley home?" she asked gently.

"It is," the woman answered defiantly. Minerva reached up and pulled down her hood, looking back at the shorter woman with a gentle smile. "Hello Molly," she said quietly.

The two eyes grew wide and Minerva could just make out a studdering sound from behind the door. "May I come in Molly? There's much me need to discuss."

Molly Weasley stood back from the door in shock, letting it fall open without complaint. Minerva took a step forward but stopped and turned. "Stay here Daniels. I want to catch up with an old friend, and I doubt conversation with flow with an unbridled ease if you're in the room." Without another look back, Minerva stepped through the portal and shut it behind her with a decisive click.

Minerva stopped just inside the doorway, trying to adjust to the dim lighting. The air was filled with te smell of potatos and dirty laundry, but the small room she found herself in had a neat but lived in appearance.

Minerva looked over at the other woman, amazed at the difference this world had made. Her auburn hair was now utterly white and dull. She had lost weight to the point of starvation. Her once loving eyes were now wary and clouded. But, as hard as she tried, Minerva couldn't ignore the sickening green glow that covered the woman. It seemed to pulse around her only served to accentuate the deep lines that covered her features.

Minerva took a step forward and tried not to weep as Molly flinched back. Looking around the small room, Minerva lowered herself down into a rickeety chair and placed her hands in plain view. "You can't be real," Molly said accusingly as she lowered herself into another chair across the room.

"I'm very much real Molly. As to how, that is a very long story. But first, how are you, the family? What have you been doing?"

Molly looked at her warily, reminding Minerva of a cornered animal. "how do I know it's you? You could very well be a member of that crackpots fan club."

"Molly," Minerva said exasperated, but she saw the determined glint in her yes she sighed and complied. "The day after Charlie's second birthday, you managed to get your toe stuck in the bathtub faucet. It took Arthur and I almost three hours to get you free. Speaking of which," she added in an afterthought, "did the swelling ever go down?"

Minerva grinned as Molly flushed a brillant red and ducked her head. In the next moment, Minerva found herself wrapped tightly in Molly's arm, trying to hold back her own tears as Molly's slipped down the front of her robes. "Oh Molly, what happened?" Minerva asked softly, rubbing soothing circles into the other woman's back.

"He took it all back Minerva," she chocked out. "We all fought for him, for what he led us to believe, and then he took it all back. Albus betrayed us all, and it cost me my husband."

AN2: Ok, you've gotten this far, and I'm not to proud to beg. Please review please please please. Thank you come again.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who took the time to review this story. I have never gotten a response like this before, and I don't know quite the words to express my gratitude. So, in my own inadaquate way, thank you and enjoy!

Albus sat alone in his dark office, only a single gutted candle provided the light he needed. The portraits had left to give him some desperately needed privacy. She was supposed to be there, they were going to meet. He looked down and stared at a single photograph held between his trembling fingers. It was in a simple silver frame, and they were dancing. It had been the Yule ball during the tournament, and she was enchanting.

He watched as they swirled together, and he sat mesmerized as she laughed at a joke he couldn't recall. He could remember the smell of her perfume, the way she felt in his arms, even the glint in her eyes, but he could not remember the joke that brought out his favorite sound. It had taken every once of self control he could muster not to drop down on his knees in the midst of everyone and declare his undying affections.

But, he had managed, he held himself together, and cursed himself until that morning. With a simple look and a gentle kiss, his heart had sung and the world never seemed brighter. All morning he sat in his chair with an idiotic grin plastered to his face. He let the pictures of her in wedding robes, growing large with child, and the sounds of little feet and giggles ringing through his empty chambers occupy his mind. They would name the child Rebecca, or perhaps Sean if it were a boy.

By lunch time, he had already moved on to the slew of grandchildren that he could spoil before retiring home with his beautiful wife for a quiet evening. For a few blissful hours he had been content, complete, but now things are so different.

He ran his thumb along the edge of the frame, his vision obscured by the mist covering his eyes. "Where did you go Min?" he asked the photo, half expecting her top answer, her hands resting upon her hips in annoyance. But, no answer came, and he was still left alone.

A sort of numbness had taken over his system. He could still see, feel, but the sensations didn't register. Nothing could overcome jagged pain that had taken up residence in his chest, trying to claw its way out. He had seen a muggle movie once, Spaceballs, and he half expected the small green monster to explode from him and begin to dance, top hat in hand. Albus shook his head and smiled faintly at the image.

He was just about to put the frame back in its place atop his desk when his thumb slipped, catching on the edge. "Damn," he growled out as his thumb gave way to the sharp corner. He stared stupidly at the trail of blood that was making its way down his hand, threatening to stain his sleeve. He had smeared the picture as well when his hand pulled away.

He watched as the crimson fluid dribbled down, just covering the dancing couple. His mind desperately wanted to latch onto something, the tiniest sliver hidden in the deepest recesses of his mind. He sat fascinated as his blood gathered at the bottom of the frame at their feet, and then he looked back at his own bleeding thumb. Then, with sickening clarity, it descended upon him like the moth to a flame.

Gripping the frame tightly, he tried not to run as he made his way to the dungeons. He found Severus exactly where he thought the young man would be, brooding over a bottle of Firewhisky, much like he would have been, if he were a drinking man. Severus' eyes were hooded, unfocused, and Albus could see the already emptied bottle sitting at his feet.

Not being able to waste another moment, Albus walked past his inebriated Potions master and into the bathroom, grabbing a hangover potion from the shelf. Forcing it down Severus' unwilling throat, Albus all but shook him until clarity returned to the fathomless pits Severus claimed were eyes. "Albus, what in the hell," Severus sputtered, trying to catch his bearings.

"What do you know about binding potions Severus?"

"I suppose it depends on what you would need one for." Severus looked at the headmaster carefully, and he wasn't pleased with what he saw.

There was a sort of madness behind the eyes that he had never seen before, and Albus' face was flushed with what Severus wasn't sure. Albus straightened up, pushing away from Severus forcefully.

Never letting go of the picture, Albus began to pace, turning quickly and sharply on his heels. "I don't know if its possible..never been tried before..doubt even thought of, but if..would have to talk to Poppy..catch a grip.."

'Yes, please do,' Severus thought before he could stop himself. "Albus, what are you doing here?"

Severus had to brace himself from jumping as Albus spun around to face him. He was actually smiling, a bad sign given the circumstances. He began waving the picture frame in the air, letting little drops of blood fly through the air. "She fell on the time turner Severus. She broke it."

The sheer fact that Albus seemed pleased by this worried Severus even more than the smile. The man had been in his office not two hours ago, all but sobbing into his tea, and now he was grinning like a school boy. "Headmaster," Severus began slowly, but Albus cut him off.

"Don't you understand Severus. I can't believe it took me this long. She broke the tuner. She would have had to cut herself if she were holding it, wouldn't she? There would have been blood," he continued, holding up his own hand.

"The power of eternity mixed with the bonds of man to create a force greater than the universe itself," Severus whispered, his eyes growing wide in understanding and excitement. "But Tarsus was never able to prove that theory," he rebutted, even as his own curiosity began to rise.

"But, when he created the first Time Tuner, no one knew for sure if they would work at all, never mind what could actually happen if the energy was released. He was never sure what would happen if blood was added to the equation, but he took a guess."

Realization finally dawned on Severus, and his temper rose. "You cannot be serious! It's official," he proclaimed, jerking his arms up, "I work for the stupidest man in all of England! We've already lost Minerva, you can't truly be thinking of going after her? What if you cannot hold it long enough? What if you are pulled through as well and we lose you? And, how do you know we can find the right time frame?" Severus' eyes blazed and his chest heaved. "You cannot be that big of an idiot Albus. Use your head man; it's just too dangerous."

Albus pulled his hand away from his chin, where it had landed as Severus ranted, and gestured toward him. "We Severus?" he asked, that damnable knowing glint back in his eyes.

"Yes, we headmaster. If you think I am going to sit idly by while you blow us all up, than that Gryffindor pride has finally swollen your head." He brushed past the headmaster, moving toward the massive wall of books that dominated the room and ran his fingers along the spines. Deftly, removed a single volume and moved toward his desk, cradling the volume to his chest. "The bonding potion could work, but it has never been used for this before. There is no way to know if it will hold you here or not. Even if it could, you may only get one chance."

"Once chance is all I will need my boy. It's all I'll need." Albus leaned over Severus' shoulder, and they began the arduous task of researching the impossible.

* * *

Four hours, and three pots of peppermint tea later, found Minerva securely wrapped up in front of the roaring fire back at the Ministry. She hadn't been surprised to find a tartan dressing gown hanging over the back of an arm chair when she had walked through the door, cold and damp, but the thought had been appreciated. She still couldn't understand, or even fathom, the stories that Molly had told her of the last few years.

Albus had decimated the Order. All of them, every member, except for Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, had tried to make him see reason when he began to change. Each of them had ended up in that sadists playground.

Uprisings within the areas were common, and Molly had lost everyone with the exception of young Ginevera to attacks, not by guards, but by other inhabitants. Several of the old Aurors had taken up the task of an informal law enforcement, but they were vastly outnumbered. But, by far, the most interesting stories were about, the now not so young, Mr. Potter.

Apparently, when it all began, Harry had gone to Dumbledore and tried to reason with the older man. He was offered a position within the new government, and Harry quickly learned that Albus didn't much enjoy being laughed at. The duel that ensued had destroyed half of the Ministry building and left Albus with a fresh scar and Harry on the run. No one, at least none within the government, had heard or seen the young man since.

Most thought he had died, laying forgotten in a deserted field or ditch, but others knew better. It was two years ago that he began to surface again. At first, they were minor reports. A man resembling Harry was seen wandering through the streets, or darting into a shop as a patrol passed by.

Soon, those isolated reports became a running time line. He was seen at the head of a minor uprising, protesting the price of bread or milk. These quickly led to incidents of violence against the guards. More than once, a praetorian was found, unconscious and bleeding in the streets, his wand missing. The people rallied around him, just as they had before, but this time it was in defense against an utterly different kind of monster.

Minerva had asked for names, but Molly had shushed her. "Even the walls have ears," she had whispered, her eyes darting to the door where Daniels stood watch. "But," she added quickly, "he's not the only one with spies. Feigning loyalty isn't that difficult." And that had been the end of the visit.

Minerva leaned back into the love seat, letting the heat of the fire seep into her bones, easing the weariness of the day. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes, the darkness comforting her like an old friend. She had managed to avoid Albus upon her return, somehow, but it couldn't last. In fact, she knew morning would bring questions as he joined her for breakfast. The note pinned to her door had made that fact quite clear. She could only hope to avoid most of his wrath. If she could simply pass the trip off as a visit to a friend, perhaps he would overlook it, but she was beginning to doubt he was capable of overlooking anything.

The man was an enigma, lost within himself. He had become a cold, unfeeling, despot. He was everything she loathed and feared, but he was also something else. There were flashes, even the briefest of moments, where his eyes twinkled, or his voice softened. He would be the man he once was, but those were exception, not the rule. She only had to look at his former friends to see that.

Molly had mentioned something interesting though, almost as if in passing. Everyone he disapproved of ended up in green sector. For all the trouble the people caused him, there had never been a report of a person simply disappearing. He had never brought himself to that, and the image of his face when he confronted them still burned bright in her memory. He had been shocked, almost hurt, by their outcry; the people had wounded him, and none of them knew it. She stood, stretching, before turning toward the bedroom. She let her hand rest against the doorframe as she stopped, leaning into it for support. "Maybe," she whispered, "maybe." She walked into the bedroom and shut the door behind her quietly.

Just as it snapped shut, he reappeared, standing only feet from her door. His face was rife with indecision, longing battling with the urge to flee, hide in the world he had created. "Sleep well Minerva," he whispered before disappearing once again and walking through the door and into the corridor beyond. Tomorrow they would talk, and he would have the answers he needed. He couldn't lose her again; not again.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: I just wanted to say thanks again for all of the reviews. Please, keep it up; I am making changes to the story based on your imput. Sorry this chapter is so short, but I'm off to visit my mom this weekend, and I just couldn't leave without an update. Hope it's up to expectations. have a good weekend everybody.

He had been restless all night, tossing back and forth in the silk sheets. To his relief, the sun began to blaze its trail across the sky. Dressing quickly, he moved silently through the empty corridors between his rooms and hers, his body tense with anticipation. The door opened for him without a sound and his eyes fell upon her. She was radiant, just as he remembered her to be. Her cheeks were pink from the warmth of the room, and her hair splayed out around her on the pillow, creating its own type of halo.

The gowns he had provided for her were not distasteful, but he did appreciate his forethought as he watched the hint of bosom rise and fall with each of her breaths. He allowed himself to wonder, something he rarely indulged in anymore. He wondered how her skin tasted, if she would taste as sweet as she smelled. He was curious about the texture of her skin along her back; would she be as smooth as silk, as soft as a new kittens fur? But, most of all, he wondered how she would sound. Would she scream out his name for all the world to hear, or would she whisper it in his ear, a declaration for him alone? His hands clenched as another wave of desire crashed through him, and it took everything he had not to join her, awake or not.

Minerva shifted in her sleep, letting out a soft sigh as the morning's light began to filter into the room, playing against her eyelids. Coming to a stop between the light and the sleeping woman, Albus simply waited. The sigh soon morphed into a groan as consciousness began to wage an unyielding war with her. Her eyelids fluttered, her back arched, and her toes curled as sleep retreated, waiting for another evening. Her full lips smacked together a few times as she sat up, her eyes still partially closed. Easing back into the world, Minerva took in the room around her with a small frown before her eyes fell on Albus. Minerva screamed, jumping with fright, before falling unceremoniously out of the bed.

She landed with a resounding thud at his feet, the sheets wrapping themselves around her limbs, restraining her. He made no move to help as she struggled with her captor, not even bothering to acknowledge her presence. "Damn it Albus," she ground out, forgetting everything but her sore behind for a moment. "What are you doing in here? I promised to meet you for breakfast. Are you just going to stand there?" Her cheeks had flushed again, this time from a mixture of embarrassment and outrage, but she never broke eye contact. She was issuing a challenge, and he was in no mood. He had his own internal battle to wage, and so far, she wouldn't like the result.

He reached down and pulled Minerva to her feet, more roughly than absolutely necessary. "I heard something rather interesting yesterday; do you want to know what it was?" Minerva just rolled her eyes and set about braiding her hair. She already knew what this conversation would be about.

"Please, do enlighten me. What could have caught the eye of the mighty Albus Dumbledore this time? Is it time for the muggle election?" She didn't bother to hide her contempt and smirked inwardly as his eyes flashed hot.

"No, those are actually next month," he said conversationally. "A little bird told me about an interesting house call you paid yesterday. So tell me Minerva, how is Molly these days? I do so hope she's well." Minerva could feel her blood run cold at the irritation and spite infused with every word. Molly appeared to be just another fly buzzing in his ear, one he couldn't be bothered to swat.

"Molly's just wonderful Albus; she sends her love." Minerva plastered a sickeningly sweet smile on her face and settled back, waiting for the explosion. As frightening as it was, an angry Albus was preferable to the aloofness he tried so desperately to portray. But, it never came.

"The next time the guards sweep the area, I'll tell them to drop by with my regards. I know she was your friend Minerva; she was mine as well, but it's different now. That entire family is dangerous Minerva, and you shouldn't be going to see them. It might give people ideas."

Minerva snorted and pointed a shaking finger at him. "Heavens forbid! The world is coming to an end, someone had an actual thought! The last time I checked Albus Dumbledore, I was quite capable of deciding whom to associate with. It's more than enough to have a former student as a babysitter Albus; I don't need another." By the time she was finished, they were standing toe to toe, and only scant inches separated their faces, each flushed.

Minerva watched a muscle twitch just below his right eye; she assumed he was desperately trying to restrain whatever retort had sprung to his twisted mind. She hadn't realized her nightgown had shifted during her tirade. It's long been said that there is but a fine line that separates rage and passion; it was a line Albus had grown far too familiar with over the last two days for his own liking, so he stopped trying to navigate it.

With a shocking speed, his hands shot out and wrapped themselves around her upper arms, gripping them tightly. As quickly as he grabbed her, he released her once again when she couldn't stop the loud yelp that escaped her lips, sounding like a wounded animal. He pulled back as if burned, and Minerva's hands clamped themselves over her mouth, her eyes wide. Her head began to shake and he looked on in confusion until his gaze landed on her arm. The sleeve had slipped farther down, and he could just make out the faintest hint of purple from beneath the fabric.

"Minerva?" he asked, reaching out and taking a step backward.

"It's nothing Albus, I'm fine," she said, doing what she could to keep the distance between them. She knew he didn't believe her; the words were unconvincing, even to her own ears.

He shook his head again, his stance softening as he wrapped his hand around her elbow, gently pulling her forward. Minerva didn't try to pull away, but her eyes were pleading. "Albus, don't."

Ignoring her, Albus reached up and gently lowered the fabric, exposing the blemish to his eyes. Both were so caught up in his discovery that neither noticed as more and more of the nightgown fell away. He stared at the marking, unsure of just what he was seeing. There was a large mass in the center, a deep purple bordering on black with small pockets of red dispersed through it. The odd thing though, were the five thinner bruises, almost tentacles, that seemed to creep away from the center. They were lighter in color, but one stripe had a bulge in the middle of it, and with a flash of comprehension and revulsion, he understood.

He looked her in the eye, willing her to deny it, to tell him anything else, but her downcast eyes and slumped shoulders told him everything he never wanted to know. It was his turn to shake as he fought to control his stomach. His mouth worked, desperate to form the words his mind couldn't produce, couldn't conceal. "I..but I would never..you know I couldn't..not you..love please!" His eyes, the ones who had witnessed death and destruction, pain and mayhem, were pleading for absolution from a simple bruise. But, to them both, it was so much more.

Minerva stared back at him, and she could feel every ounce of pain and disbelief he fought. She wanted to take him in her arms and simply kiss away the pain, hold him until all was forgiven, but both knew it couldn't be. "You've changed Albus; oh why can't you see?" Her voice was soft but firm, a current of regret tinging the edges. "I have loved you for more years than I could begin to count, and you are right. You never could, but now you certainly can. You do not love me Albus; I'm not even sure anymore if you're capable of love. You're drawn to the memory of me, a woman who no longer exists. Bruises fade Albus, and apparently, so did you. You have done far worse than this to thousands of people, so why do you only weep for me. Save your tears for those who deserve them, like Molly or the hundreds who can no longer see them."

He stood there silently, his face red and blotchy, his entire body sagging under the invisible weight that now resided upon his shoulders. Her words echoed in his head, taunting him again and again. "Go to Hogwarts and see Poppy. You shouldn't leave those untreated." His tone belied the order in his words, and both heard the request. It was the first one he had made in five years. He turned around and shuffled his way toward the door, all semblance of pride missing from his defeated form.

Albus stopped before walking through the door, his hand still gripping the knob painfully. He never turned, but Minerva could hear him perfectly. "You are wrong about one thing Minerva. I fell in love all over again." The door closed behind him, and, despite the ache in her heart and tears threatening to fall, there was a gentle smile on her face. He wasn't dead after all.

In record time, Minerva had dressed and escaped her chambers before young Mr. Daniels had arrived, fleeing on her own through the empty streets. Two flooes and a carriage ride later, Minerva found herself once again standing outside of the Hospital Wing. Pushing open the door quietly, Minerva scanned the room for the nurse, and almost groaned when she was nowhere to be seen. She was about to leave when she heard soft voices coming from the office, and for the first time, noticed shadows dancing across the stone floors.

Minerva crept through the ward and eased up against the doorframe, straining to identify the sounds within. The voices were indistinct, but there were at least four of them, all highly agitated and one especially annoyed. She leaned in farther, hoping to catch a part of the conversation, trying to squash the guilt she felt for ease dropping. Before she knew what happened, she found herself on the pointy end of a wand and intense glare from two emerald eyes. "Well, didn't your mother ever tell you listening to conversations that were not your own was impolite? Perhaps you would care to join us?" Minerva began to back away, but the wand only raised higher. "Oh no, really, I insist.


	9. Chapter 9

Minerva found herself pulled into the small office and surrounded on all sides. Three separate wands, all as unique as their masters, were pointed directly in her face. The door snapped shut behind her, and they were alone. "Start talking," a voice behind her growled out. Minerva huffed, put out her rough treatment, and turned toward the voice. His raven hair was already streaked liberally with grey along the temples, and he now had two scars on his forehead, although the second wasn't the trademark lightning bolt. He was gaunt, thin as a rail, and reminded her of a vulture, his shoulders slumped forward as he stood. He was suspicious, cautious, even a little confused. While he had obviously hardened from his experiences, he had been unable to mask his emotions, and some small part of Minerva rejoiced in his failure.

She remained silent, her raised eyebrow her own sign of her displeasure. "Are you learning impaired," he asked, clearly becoming more agitated.

"If I were," she said, crossing her arms in front of her and leaning back on her heels, "do you think pointing it out, Mr. Potter, would be conducive to polite conversation?"

Internally, she grinned as a snort came from her right and Harry's eyes grew wide, not expecting the flippant reply. Minerva looked out of the corner of her eye and saw Hermione doing her best to stifle the laughter threatening to explode.

"I would appreciate it if you would remove your wands from my face and sit down. Perhaps we could try talking, just for a change of pace. Could you manage to that Mr. Potter, or would prefer to perfect your fish imitation for a bit longer? I see we have the time."

Without another word, Minerva lowered herself gracefully and stared up at the other occupants. Never putting away their wands, each joined her, one by one. She wasn't really surprised to see Hermione, or Severus for that matter, but the third man made her heart swell. "Ten point to Gryffindor Mr. Daniels. I see I underestimated you; it won't happen again." A smile ghosted over his lips and he nodded, being the first to sheath his wand.

"Alright, let's talk." Harry said, coming to his senses, leaning forward. His eyes were intense as his arms came to rest against his knees. His eyes raked over her, taking in every detail, making Minerva feel slightly self conscious, but she fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

When he was finished, Harry leaned back in his chair, flinging one leg over the chair's arm. "Image the surprise when you were sighted walking through that hell hole yesterday. Minerva McGonagall returned from the dead." Severus scoffed beside him, and Harry smirked. "It must be true; here you are. No collar, no bonds of any kind, and you weren't shuttled away immediately. The old fool is obviously still besotted with you. The only question is why."

Minerva could see the curiosity behind his glasses, the possibilities playing out in that extraordinary mind. It was mirrored by the others, but Severus also had a look of what could be..contempt. "Why what Mr. Potter? You will need to be a little more specific than that. And there's really no need to look at me like that Severus; you stopped being frightening a long time ago."

Severus scowled at her and gripped his wand tightly. Minerva could see his fingers flex and she simply couldn't help herself. "Don't squeeze your wand too tightly Severus. They do say it's different when the children are your own."

There was silence as the tension mounted before it was shattered with the sound of choking. Harry's emaciated form was shaking, trembling silently. His eyes were beginning to water and his cheeks flushed. A sound, not quite human, came out of his mouth, and he looked as astonished as everyone else. He was actually laughing. "I always liked you," he wheezed, trying to catch his breath. The green glow of his own collar illuminating the tears streaking down his face. "Let's try this again. How did you get here, and what do you want?"

'Maybe I should just write this down,' Minerva thought sarcastically. "What I want, Mr. Potter, is go home. We all know I do not belong here. As for how..I'm still working on that one."

Minerva reached over and picked up the fresh cup of sweet smelling tea Hermione had set down for her. Just as she was bringing it to her lips, she saw the expectation in Harry's eyes. She sighed and looked longingly at the tea, setting it back down again. "A good effort Severus, but you've gotten rusty. If you're that desperate for truth, you know what you should do. I was never very good, and you know it."

He nodded. It had always been well known that Minerva was horrible at Occlumency, a fact which had always surprised him. Most of the Order couldn't understand why she had been allowed such access without being able to protect herself.

She had turned in her seat, staring directly at him, an invitation if he ever received one. He picked through her mind, saw and felt everything she had experienced. He tarried longer than necessary when he found the memory of that morning, the sheer look of horror on Albus' face. His terror was a welcome sight.

He bobbed his head, putting away his own wand. "The Tin Man is beating again I see. That is..surprising." Minerva and Daniels seemed to be the only one's confused as Hermione frowned at Severus and Harry let out another snort.

"Tin Man,"Minerva questioned, but Harry just waved it away.

"That's not important. The question now is what to do with you? We all know how you feel about the old crackpot. Don't look so surprised," he said seen her shocked face. "You two were hopeless when we were students. If I had to sit through more meal with the two of you pining away, I would have been sick."

He stood up, scratching his stomach. "We could simply let you return, but then, how do we know Dumbledore won't find out about me? That could throw off the entire timetable, and we've spent too long planning this. Or, we could just never let you leave."

"And just what are you planning on doing?" she asked, already fearing the answer that came to mind.

"We're going to kill Dumbledore," Hermione said, almost casually.

"No!" Minerva yelled, jumping to her feet. "You can't just..there has to be another way!" The other four looked at her, and she fell back into her seat, trembling. "When?" she whispered.

"Friday," Daniels supplied. "It's the anniversary of his swearing in; rather apt in my mind."

A dull roar filled her thoughts as she desperately searched for an excuse, any reason. She could find nothing. "Please," she begged, "give me time. Let me at least try to get through to him. If I could convince him to step down, would you let him live?"

Harry stepped forward and dropped to his knees in front of her. He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were puffy and red, and he stared, searching for something. He seemed to have found it and released her. "I owe you that," he said, handing her a tattered handkerchief. "The ceremony isn't until Friday evening. We will not change the plan, but we will let you go back. If anyone can knock sense into him, it's you."

Grasping her hands, he pulled her toward the door. "Tell no one what you saw here. If you did I'll know, and everything is off. I remember him too," he said softly. "But, that man is dead. Don't get your hopes up too high."

Without a word, Minerva stepped through the door and heard it click shut behind her. She lifted the hood of her cloak up, trying to ignore the stares she received. An hour later, entering her chambers again and stripping off her traveling cloak, Minerva was met with another shock. She clutched her chest as Albus stood before her, looking every bit the nervous school boy.

Slowly he walked toward her, raising a hand containing a jar of a bluish substance. "Severus flooed," he explained tentatively. "He told me Poppy hadn't been in to help you, so I brought you this."

He held out the jar, but when she didn't take it, he dropped his gaze and set the jar on a table. It will help with the bruise; just rub it in before you go to bed."

They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity before Albus turned and again walked toward the door. He hadn't gotten two steps before she reached out and touched his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Albus smiled weakly and simply bowed. "Am I truly that different?" he asked. She didn't answer, simply looking back at the jar. "I thought so," he said, walking out of the room.

Minerva delicately fingered the lid of the jar before picking it up, watching the candlelight cause it to glow. She nearly dropped it again as a feeling of warmth and contentment suddenly flooded through her, seeming to overwhelm her. Love and need flooded through every pore of her being, and Minerva closed her eyes to relish in it. "Albus," she moaned, seeing a pair of twinkling blue eyes and soft lips.

* * *

Albus opened his eyes, sweat drenching his robes and trailing down the side of his face. His breath was coming in short gasps as he struggled to fight off unconsciousness. The spell had taken a lot out of him, but he was radiating happiness. He dropped the heavy tomb and never noticed the shards of broken glass at his feet from the dropped vial. The potion had worked. They were one, and it was time to bring her home. He only had to hope she wouldn't kill him; they hadn't even had dinner yet. 


	10. Chapter 10

AN: I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far. Sorry if I've confused everyone, but the bonding will be explained by the end of the story.

Severus hurried through the heavy dungeon door as he felt the wards surrounding it fall away. Albus was leaning heavily against the wooden workstation, preparation causing his face to shimmer in the torchlight, but he looked positively gleeful. "Headmaster, did it work? Was the potion successful?"

The smile blanketing Albus' face grew almost impossibly larger as he faced Severus. "I could feel her Severus. The bonding is complete; the connection is secure." His eyes became wistful. "You were right, we did need her to complete the last stage."

He held up her hairbrush, a few loose strands sticking out from the edges. Severus' eyes grew big, his lank hair swaying as he shook his head violently, comprehension falling over him like a ton of bricks. "You cannot be serious! Do you know what could have happened? This isn't a bloody Polyjuice Potion Albus! You could have killed her, or worse, blown up my lab! What if the connection hadn't been enough? What if the hairs hadn't given you a strong enough base? There's a reason bondings occur with both people present. The potion was meant to bond you to her. It's too unpredictable otherwise!"

Albus was too excited to truly hear what Severus was saying. He could still feel her within him, surrounding him. It was a warm, contented feeling he could never remember experiencing, and he never wanted it to end. Despite their separation, he could feel almost an echo of her, like the faintest of whispers dancing along his consciousness. They were bonded, in every sense of the word. He could feel her worry, her confusion, but he could also feel the overwhelming love she held for him. He wondered if she was having the same experiences.

Albus was brought out of reverie by a steady, but insistent, tapping sound. He looked over to see Severus standing, his arms crossed firmly over his chest, his foot tapping away. Albus simply raised a silver eyebrow in his direction. "Now that I have your attention," Severus said snappishly, "what's the next step? Assuming the connection is strong enough, how do you plan on retrieving her?"

"Magic Severus," Albus said softly, running a finger across the wooden handle of the brush, "magic."

* * *

He was hovering over her, his warm breath dancing across her half closed lids. They moved together, hot, slick, and utterly irresistible. She could feel his heartbeat thud against his chest, pumping in time with her own. She clawed at his broad shoulders, trying to bring him closer, make herself a part of him as the coil within herself tightened.

Understanding, his lips crashed into hers, taking what little breath she possessed away in a soul touching kiss. His swollen lips left hers and came to rest beside her ear, whispering, leading. Tender words of love, devotion, reassurance flooded her senses as she fell over the edge, gripping him tightly, calling out his name into the darkness.

She could feel her self falling away, being pulled from his arms, and she did all she could to fight, but it was of no use. He looked back at her, his eyes filled with determination and devotion. "I'm coming Tabby," he whispered, but she heard, felt.

Minerva's eyes fluttered open, despite her best efforts to remain in the dream. It had to have been a dream, she reasoned, but everything had seemed so real. Pulling herself out of bed, she padded softly across the cold stone floor and into the bathroom. She felt different. The worry and confusion from the past few days was still present, but there was now an undercurrent of reassurance and calm the flowed through her. Turning on the taps, steam began to fill the large room as she turned toward the mirror and let out a gasp.

Her hand flew to the side of her neck. There, sitting at the base of her slim neck, was a deep red mark. Her fingers traced it gently, unable to understand just what she was seeing. She flushed as she remembered the dream. He had left his mark upon her, claiming her as his own, and she had loved it. The feel of his lips, his hands, stroking her, bringing her farther away from herself. But, it had only been a dream, hadn't it? There should be no way for this to be happening.

She slipped out of her nightgown and stepped under the hot spray. As she washed, she noticed other marks. A small scrape here, a new bruise there, all where he paid special attention. It was odd, even a little disturbing, but perhaps the saying was right. It could be simply a case of mind over matter. The reasoning seemed weak, even to her bewildered mind, but what other explanation could there be?

She shook her head, trying to dislodge the feeling of something just out of reach. She had more important matters to attend to, and they would need her full and complete attention. She had two days, two days to turn her very own Fudge back into the purring lion she remembered. "Damn stubborn man," she mumbled to herself, patting her hair dry as she walked back into her bedroom.

The possibilities turned over in her mind, each as unlikely as the next. She could tell him of the plot, but that would only put Harry and other's in danger. It would also confirm his fears, and they would never convince him otherwise. She could attempt a coup of her own, knocking him out and dragging him away. 'Fire bad, tree pretty,' suddenly popped into her mind before she pushed it aside. Violence rarely solved anything, even if it was a little satisfying. No, there was only one decent choice, and even that was difficult. She would have to find a way to remind him of himself. It was time to draw Albus out of his cave. She just needed something to start the fire under his omnipotent behind.

Dressed and ready to face the day, Minerva returned to her bedside table to gather her glasses and stopped. Not believing her eyes, she tentatively reached out and almost wept with relief as her fingers curled around it. The familiar warmth spread up her arm, almost competing with the sensations she had yet to shake from the night. Her wand looked no worse for wear, perhaps even a little better. The wood was solid, polished from years of use. It fit perfectly between her slim fingers, an extension of her arm, her very soul.

The magical community was so in use with carrying their wands, she had never realized what it would be like to live without it. Almost reverently, she tucked the wand into her robes, fighting with herself to keep from stroking it as she walked down the halls. She didn't see a reason to advertise this latest development, but it did give her a piece of mind. She nodded her greetings to the various portraits as she walked, not truly paying attention.

It wasn't until she turned the corner and walked straight into something warm and solid that her attention returned to the present. Two arms held her gently, steadying her, and a now familiar smell flooded her senses. She struggled to reign in the sudden flood of heat that enveloped her. Her mind and heart understood the difference, but her body still remembered the feel of those hands and craved more. "Good morning Minerva," he said softly when she was finally able to look up at him.

"Good morning Albus," she replied, pulling away slowly. "I'm sorry; I wasn't watching my step. That seems to be happening more often lately."

He smiled appreciatively at her attempt to lighten the mood. "I was actually on my way to see you," he began, "I was wondering I you would do me the honor of joining me for breakfast this morning?"

He extended his arm and waited on baited breath for her response. For a moment, just a moment, Minerva allowed herself to be reeled in by the normalcy of it, the natural way her arm fit in his. And, as soon as it appeared, the moment passed. "That would be lovely Albus. I was just heading toward the kitchens myself." She allowed herself to be steered through the buildings and out into the street.

They moved in silence, one unsure of what to say, and the other too afraid to disrupt the luck that seemed to be favoring him. It was still early, the sun was barely making an appearance above the rolling hills far in the distance, but signs of life were already beginning to make themselves known. Small sidewalk cafe's were opening, the smell of strong coffee and sweet rolls filled the air. Birds dove between the buildings, filling the air with their song. They stopped beside a small café.

Minerva would have missed it if Albus hadn't pointed it out, and she wondered if that wasn't the intention. "I discovered this spot about two years ago," he whispered, afraid to dispel the calm that surrounded them. "I just couldn't take sitting in my office for another day, so I went for a walk one morning. They make the best scones I've ever had. It's almost as if they melt in your mouth."

His hand was warm on the small of her back, and he made to lead them forward, but she hesitated. He looked at her questioningly, and she gave him a crooked smile in response. "Albus," she paused, not exactly sure of what she wanted, no needed to say. So, she simply said, "thank you," placing her hand against the outside of her robes, just above her wand.

His eyes flickered with recognition and acceptance, the hand on her back curling affectionately. "I trusted you once, I was a fool not to now. Forgive me?"

She understood the double meaning behind his question. "Always," she said reassuringly. "Now," she added quickly, trying to dispel the tension that was beginning to build between them again. "I'm famished and I insist on trying these scones. With a sweet tooth like yours, I'll probably lapse into a coma."

Albus laughed outright, a rich full sound he hadn't heard in some time, but it brought an answering grin to Minerva's face. They were about to enter with a shift and a crash came from the alleyway, startling them both. In the blink of an eye, both had their wands drawn and were moving toward the source of the sound.

Stopping to allow their eyes to adjust to the dark, neither were surprised to see an overturned trash can rolling haphazardly along the ground. IT was what sat behind it that caused the breath to catch in Minerva's throat.

A small girl sat huddled against the wall, rocking back and forth slightly. She was filthy, covered in clothes not fit to be called rags, and painfully thin. Minerva was the first to lower her wand and step forward. She moved slowly, trying not to frighten the child, but the little girl still attempted to push herself through the wall behind her, her eyes wide and fearful. "Shh," Minerva crooned. "No one is going to hurt you little one. Everything is alright."

She reached out her hand, and was relieved when the girl stopped trying to move away. "My name is Minerva; what's yours?" The little girl looked at her, her eyes occasionally darting behind Minerva to stare at Albus.

"Argante," the little girl said softly.

"That's a lovely name. This is Albus," Minerva said, turning to face Albus. He had lowered his wand and was simply staring at the two. When he heard his name, however, he stepped forward and knelt beside Minerva.

"Hello there." The little girl curled herself into a tighter ball, and turned her attention back to Minerva.

"Argante, where are your parents?" Minerva watched as a single tear slipped down the girl's cheek, leaving a trail of clean skin in a sea of filth.

Argante shook her head. "I don't know where Papa is. He left for work one morning and never came home. I was five."

"How old are you now?" Albus didn't like the hallow acceptance he saw in her eyes. She was far too young to know that sort of pain.

"I'll be eight in two months."

"And where is you mother?" Minerva asked as she took off her cloak and wrapped it around her shivering frame. Argante grasped the edges of the warm cloak, pulling it tightly around her, relishing in the soft texture and instant comfort it brought.

"She died last week. There was an accident at her job, and she got stuck under a beam." Minerva's heart broke for the little girl and carefully wiped the girl's tears from her cheeks.

"Don't you have any other family? Where have you stayed?"

Argante shook her head again, burrowing further into the cloak as a gust of wind swirled around them, kicking up a clump of loose leaves. "I've been here. There is nobody else."

Through it all, Albus hadn't said a word. He simply stared at the little girl, his clear blue eyes compassionate and thoughtful. "Argante," he paused, trying to choose his words carefully. "Where did you live with your mother before? Where did you come from?"

Minerva shot him a look; she knew exactly what he was asking. But, he ignored her. Instead, he watched Argante suddenly begin to squirm, looking everywhere but at them.

"My mother said I'm never supposed to say," she finally answered.

"It's alright little one," he said, leaning forward slightly. "You lived in the green sector, didn't you?" Argante nodded sadly, ashamed for something she couldn't truly understand. Albus leaned back on his heels and stared at the girl. He could literally feel the waves of contempt emanating from the woman beside him.

He turned and caught her attention, desperate to convey his thoughts, but he couldn't understand them himself. Reaching out, palms up, Albus scooted toward Argante. "There's no reason to worry little one. I won't let you go back there. Come with me; I want to take you someplace safe and warm. There are plenty of warm clothes and lots of children to play with."

Minerva's head shot back around to face him, shock written plainly on her face. Silently, he mouthed, 'later' and turned back to the small girl in front of them. She was trembling, whether from cold or trepidation, he couldn't decide. "It's going to be alright Argante. It will all be okay," he said soothingly.

Without another word, she launched herself into his arms, grasping the front of his robes as she sobbed into his chest. He rubbed gentle circles into her back, rocking gently, whispering nonsense words that Minerva couldn't understand.

He lifted her into his arms and walked back into the street. He whispered Hogwarts to Minerva before disappearing with a faint pop. A split second later Minerva joined him, and the two made their way up the slopes toward the castle.

Twenty minutes later found Argante firmly ensconced in a bathtub, Poppy doing her best to clean the filth away. Albus' grip was firm but pleading on her arm as he led her into the small office she had visited just the day before. She half expected to see Harry dive behind the desk as they entered.

The door shut behind them and Minerva spun to face him. "What are you going to do with her now Albus? You can't return her back..there! She would be alone."

Minerva's hands were balled at her hips, and very stance demanded satisfaction. Albus raised his hands, and to both their horror, she flinched.

Albus quickly lowered his hands again as well as his eyes. "No, I won't send her back Minerva. I'm hoping she will be staying here."

Minerva was confused and grasped his arm to draw his attention and comfort him. "But who will take care of her? She needs a family Albus, not a fleet of house elves."

"Severus." Albus said, his eyes glittering. "He and Hermione have been unable to have one of their own. A curse she was hit with during the final battle has had..unexpected and irreversible consequences. I can image no two better people to look after her. I just have to convince them."

Minerva stared in disbelief as true emotion played out behind his eyes, drawing her in. Letting her hand travel up along his arm, she stood on her tip toes and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Thank you Albus," she whispered before turning and walking back into the ward. She left a confused but pleased man in her wake.

It was an hour before Argante was cleaned up and Severus and Hermione were able to meet them. For Hermione, it was love at first sight. Cleaned up, Argante was adorable. She had soft chocolate brown hair and blue eyes to rival Albus'. But, there was also a sadness there that crushed the heart's of everyone there. "What's to become of her Minister?" Hermione asked, never taking her eyes off the girl who was busy staring out in wonder over the school grounds.

"I was hoping I could persuade you and Severus to watch over the girl. She has no other family, no future without our help."

Slowly, almost painfully, Hermione turned to face them, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Us," she whispered, turning to face Severus. Her voice was hopeful, disbelieving.

He was staring at Albus, his face unreadable, but there was a flicker that crossed his eyes, invisible to everyone but those who knew what to look for. He turned to face his wife, a hand coming up to catch a falling tear. He let a smile saved for only her cross his face as he nodded. "Us," he confirmed before he found himself with an armful of witch.

Hermione leapt from his arms and into Minerva's. Minerva pulled the other woman against her tightly and looked at Severus over her shoulder. He had an eyebrow raised questioningly, his eyes flickering toward the Minister. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head and was rewarded with a curt nod. "Go to her," Minerva whispered, and soon she and Albus were again alone.

They stood in a companionable silence before he again put his hand along her back. "I believe I owe you breakfast," he said calmly.

"I believe you do," she replied, and they left, no one else in the room noticing.

AN2: Please, if you've gotten this far, take a few extra minutes and let me know what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

"That was kind of you, what you did for them," Minerva said over the rim of her tea cup. They were seated at a comfortable table in a quaint sidewalk café. They nibbled on scones and drank their tea, the meal filling with easy conversation and easier silences. So much of the tension of the last couple days had faded away, even if a small flicker still remained. Albus just shook his head, putting his own tea down. "It was nothing special Minerva. The little girl couldn't be expected to live on the street, and our young Hermione has wanted a child of her own for some time. I simply killed two birds with one stone."

He spoke matter of factly, but the tips of his ears had turned an endearing shade of pink with her compliment. Minerva placed her hand over his, doing all she could to ignore the warmth that flowed between them as they touched. "It was something Albus," she said emphatically, "even if you don't believe it."

Her eyes shone with determination. "And another thing, I don't care how often you..what are those people staring at!"

Turning slowly, several people came into Albus' range of vision, and each did their best to pretend they hadn't been caught. It always amused him how quickly shoes could become the most interesting things in the world. "You would think people have never seen you have breakfast before," Minerva complained bringing him back to the present.

"They haven't," he countered. He put up his hand to stop her protests. "I rarely leave the Ministry anymore. In fact," he said, stroking his chin, "this is probably the first time I've been out in public in over a year. By now, most people have forgotten exactly what it is I look like. They still remember the flowing beard and glasses."

Minerva stared at the man across from her, and once again wondered just how much pain he had gone through to change him so. For all of his protests, no one in her many years had enjoyed a party as much as Albus. The man could dance and talk until the wee hours of the morning, and then some if he was allowed. "If they don't recognize you, than what exactly are they staring at?"

Albus' lips curled at the end slightly, almost ironically. The affect was more sad than amusing, and it made knots form in Minerva's stomach. "You," he said. "Don't forget Minerva, you're dead. Wouldn't you stare if someone from the past simply sat down for a cup of tea in the middle of town?" He looked at her dropped eyes and obvious embarrassment. "If they're bothering you, I could make them go away."

Before Albus could even lean back in his chair to signal the waiter, Minerva had his arm in a vice grip, her emerald eyes pleading. "No! I mean..it's no problem Albus. They aren't bothering me at all. I just..I hadn't thought..they would recognize me. It's just a little odd that's all."

Albus felt a flicker of guilt at her reaction. Even despite the events of that morning, she still saw him as a monster, or so he thought. "Nothing was going to happen Minerva," he assured her, pulling her hand off his arm and wrapping it protectively within his own. "I was simply going to ask the waiter to move them along. I wouldn't have harmed them."

He was hurt, she could see that much, and his eyes begged for her trust. Unfortunately, all he asked for was something she couldn't afford to give. "You've already done more for less Albus," she whispered.

He recoiled as if struck. "I know why you've done it Albus," she added quickly, "but knowing why doesn't make it anymore palatable. Pain is still pain, no matter how you describe it. Look at me Albus," she said, and waited until his eyes met hers. "If I went into the heart of London today, surrounded by everyone, and called your removal, your..overthrow, would I make it through the night? Would anyone remember my words in the morning? Or, would I simply disappear as others have, only to be seen in a green glow?"

He continued to stare at her, his hands twisting around the teacup, but it was obvious he no longer saw her. His lips were moving, speaking to someone only he could see, his eyes truly vulnerable for the first time.

"So this is what you think of me," he said, breaking the silence. "A heartless monster, a beast who only cares for himself?" He closed his eyes and waited. He heard the scrape of her chair, and he waited for the sound of her footsteps, leaving him alone once again. He was surprised when instead, he felt two warm hands cup his cheeks.

He brought a hand up to steady her as she leaned on the arm of his chair, hovering over him, a tender look shining back at him. "Not a beast," she contradicted, "simply..lost. This morning, I saw the man I remembered, the one who would move heavens and earth to make a crying child laugh. The kind, gentle, loving man who stole my heart all those years ago. I know he is still in there," she said, brushing her hands over his heart. "You just need to find him again. You lost yourself in your grief Albus, and you destroyed everything we loved in the process. I want trust you again , to be able to once again call you friend before I return home, but you're not there yet."

His hand fisted in the shirts at her waist as he nodded. "And what do I need to do?" She brushed a stray hair out of his eyes, smiling sadly.

"That's something only you can answer Albus. When you find it, you'll know." She looked up and glared at another couple she caught staring in their direction, now more to protect Albus then from her own discomfort.

"I need to return to the Ministry," he said, "will you come with me?"

Minerva shook her head, smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her robes as she stood. "There are still some things I want to do today, and.." she hesitated, flicking lint from his shirt. "I think we need a little time to breath. Go, I'll be back in time for dinner, and we can talk then." She leaned up, hands resting on his shoulders for support. She kissed his cheek gently, chastely. "Come back to me Albus," she whispered for him alone before turning and walking away.

Minerva walked through the various streets, nodding at the few brave souls that approached her, doing her best to ignore the others. She was now acutely and painfully aware of what Harry must have suffered through upon his reentry to the wizarding world. She was the goldfish, forced to watch as horrific things pressed their distorted faces up against her bowl, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

It was with these thoughts that she found herself walking down a narrow, deserted street, finally able to breath easily. That breath hitched and quickened however, as she picked up the faint sound of a second set of steps following close behind her.

Doing her best to remain calm, Minerva slowly reached into her robes, wrapping her hand around her wand. She continued walking, and soon, she noticed an odd pattern to the other steps. There would be one step, and then an abnormally long pause before the next slightly heavier step sounded.

Exhaling the breath she didn't realize she was holding, Minerva loosened the grip on her wand slightly, smiling all the while. She should have known it couldn't be true. From personal experience, she knew he would, by all rights, outlive cockroaches.

She stopped in the middle of the street, never turning around. She knew how to catch his attention, now she just had to hope he hadn't forgotten. "There once was a young girl from Rabat," she called out.

"And you're still too young to say such things," he called back. Minerva's grin grew and she turned around.

"So you've heard," she said casually.

He continued to walk forward, his unruly gait still amusing to watch. "Obviously," he drawled, "how have you been lass?"

Laughing and forgetting everything else, Minerva wrapped her arms around his neck, surprising them both. But after a moments hesitation, he returned the gesture, managing to lift her off the ground. "You've no idea Alastor. Everyone's a mess, the world is bloody backward, and they keep telling me you've 'disappeared. They all think you're dead."

His hair was stark white and shorter than she remembered. And, he was wearing a patch over his eye, the swirling blue ball was apparently missing, but, in that instant, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen. "There's a simple reason for that Min. To almost everyone else, I am. There was an accident in the coal mine, and I managed to get free months ago. I've been working on a few things amongst the 'respectable' people left. Potter filled me in on your deal," he said, suddenly serious. "Will it work?"

'Always blunt,' she thought. They had known each other since she was five years old, but some things never change. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "Our Albus is still in there Alastor. I know you probably don't see it, but he's in there. I just don't know if I'm enough, or if I have enough time to bring him around. He's just so.." she struggled for the right word.

"Crazy," Alastor supplied.

"This is not the time for the pot and the kettle Alastor," Minerva chided him. "Speaking of crazy men, does Poppy know you're still alive?" The quick shadow that darted across Alastor's face spoke volumes. Minerva's eyebrows hit her hairline in disbelief and she smacked him none to lightly on the shoulder. "You git! The woman must be beside herself. She loves you to bits, although right now I cannot understand why for the life of me. You have to tell her Alastor."

He reached down and scratched his leg just above the wooden stump. "I will Min. After Friday. It would be too dangerous for her right now. I couldn't live with myself if something happened to her because of me. Those damn guards he has running all over the country would love to get their mitts on her. They never could understand why he left her in the school."

Minerva looked at him skeptically. "I promise, on Friday, no matter what happens."

Minerva stared him in the eye, and he could tell she didn't believe him, but thankfully, she let it drop. "We've been together too long," he said suddenly. Alastor wrapped his cloak tightly around his shoulders, turning to look around. "Get him to go Minerva. I don't care how, or why, but make it happen." His single grey eye was ablaze, intense in a way she could hardly remember. "He was my friend, but right now, given the opportunity, I would rip him apart with my bare hands. Don't give me the opportunity. I would hate to have you come after me." With a quick kiss and another quick glance, Alastor was gone.

Minerva just stood there, looking dully at the place where he was just standing. Thrusting her hands back under her cloak, she shook her head. "Damn."

When Minerva arrived back at the Ministry later that day, there was a small envelope sitting on her bed. She grinned as she read the short note.

_Don't know how you managed it, but thank you. S_

Quickly pulling away the wrapping, Minerva's eyes misted as she gazed at the photograph. It appeared Hermione had taken little time to settle into her new role with the first official family photo. She even managed to make Severus smile as they each wrapped their arms around the grinning girl.

Putting the photograph beside her bed, she spent the rest of her afternoon trying to find a way to convince Albus. She needed to find something, anything, that would make him see reason. It was doubtful he would simply step down, and any sort of power transfer would only leave him vulnerable to the masses. He would be swinging from the trees by nightfall. For all of her supposed intelligence she still hadn't come up with anything. And, it was with these maudlin thoughts that she made her way to the dining room for dinner.

What she found when she stepped through the high doorway stole her breath away. The long formal dining table had been removed, and in the corner sat a small table for two. All the lights, with the exception of a few candles floating aimlessly through the air, had been extinguished. The soft scent of wild flowers filled the air and a soothing jazz wafted through the air.

Stepping out of the shadows, Albus looked larger than life in magnificent blue robes and polished black boots. She was flushed with warmth from head to toe as he smiled at her, and that odd feeling of contentment washed through her as him image, her Albus, walked toward her. He was still missing the long beard, but she could overlook it. "Albus..what's all this?" she asked bewildered, accepting his outstretched hand.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her close as they danced slowly to the gentle music. "I thought a quiet dinner, without onlookers, would be nice. Are you hungry Minerva?"

She blushed again as the warmth from his body seeped into hers, and the memory of her dream entered her mind. Doing her best to suppress the feelings welling up inside her, she looked up at him and smiled. "Famished."

With a hand along her waist, he led her over to the table, and delighted in her gasp as dinner appeared before them. Conversation and laughter flowed easily between the two, each doing their best to avoid the unavoidable discussion that loomed in the corners. The hours breezed by like seconds, and before she knew it, Albus was again on his feet, reaching for her hand. They spun around the small room, the music switching to gentle waltz. At least he hadn't forgotten how to dance as they moved, never seeming to touch the ground.

It wasn't until the song stopped that they did. Panting slightly and rosy cheeked, Minerva looked into his eyes to thank him for the dance but stopped. His soul was laid bare before her, all his love, devotion, and guilt plain as the crooked nose on his face. "Minerva," he whispered, his hand coming to rest against the base of her neck.

He leaned forward, his breath caressing her face. But, an instant before their lips could touch, Minerva turned her head and he kissed her cheek instead. "I'm sorry Albus, I..I can't," she whispered, afraid to see the rejection in his eyes. For the second time that day she walked away from him, only this time both had tears in their eyes.

AN:If you're interested in the limerick Minerva started, you can find it here. Also, if you've gotten this far, could you please drop a line and let me know what you think? Comments I've gotten have actually changed the direction of the story, and any ideas would be welcome.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: I know it's late, and I have no excuse. I'm not even going to try, but I hopethe wait was worth it! Let me know what you guys think!

Severus stepped into the circular office as the gargoyle slid closed behind him. Surrounded by books and rumpled parchment, Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, a contented smile threatening to overtake him. "I don't mean to be the voice of reason Headmaster, but how exactly are you planning on finding Minerva? She could be anywhere; there must be thousands of separate time lines to search."

Albus shook his head, and chuckled lightly for the first time in days. "Really Severus, I'm disappointed. Surely you've figured it out by now."

Waiting, he only received an annoyed glance in return. "The potion Severus my boy, the potion! It acts as an anchor. Minerva is a thorn in the side of the Universe. It knows she shouldn't be there, and it wants nothing more for her to return. With the bnonding, it creates somewhat of a tether between us. If everything works to plan, a rift should open, and I'll be standing right beside her, ready to pull her back though, and the Universe will reseal the tear." Severus looked skeptical. "If it works Headmaster?"

The smile seemed to slide right from Albus' face, and a grim determination took its place. "This has never been tried before Severus. There was an attempt back in the early 16th century, but the wizard blew himself up as he brewed the potion. It seems that when Thomas Donnaly created the Bonding potion, he didn't intend for such great distances to be between the participants. That's why I need you by my side Severus. If something goes wrong, the tear should still appear, and I'll need you to bring Minerva back."

Severus blinked, his mind taking in what he had learned. "And the reason you won't escort her is?"

Severus had to force his body not to recoil at the age and weariness he saw as Albus leveled his full gaze on him. "If something goes wrong, I'll most likely end up as bits spread out across time."

* * *

Her breaths heaved in her chest as Minerva ran. She batted away the leaves that stuck to her glasses, intent on getting away. There's only so much a person can take, and being all but forced over the last several hours to tales of life since she died was more than she could handle. So, she managed to excuse herself, and, when she was sure no one was around to see, broke out in a run, not sure of her exact destination.

Clumps of dirt flew into the air at the force of her steps. Her pace only increased as she reached a bend in the road, taking her through a patch of trees. They swayed gloomily in the wind, casting menacing shadows along the ground. She could see her breath in the rapidly cooling evening as a fog began to descend around her.

Even the dementors would have been proud if they could have seen the many thoughts filling her mind, each forcing its way forward. Images of starving children, others being separated from parents as their resistance was discovered. She thought she had understood, but she was wrong; it was so much worse. And now, at least for him, there was no hope. Perhaps, it had escaped her as well, but it seemed to matter less and less with each passing day.

Minerva clamped down on her own mind as the stories seemed to waft through the air around her, taunting her, and she ran faster. She ran, the cold and her overwrought emotions, causing tears to stream out of her eyes. She ran until she came to a large wrought iron gate. A single phoenix was emblazoned on the front, guarding whatever lay beyond.

Leaning against the barrier, Minerva tried to catch her breath, even as she felt the gates part under her weight and she stepped forward. She would never have been prepared for what lay beyond.

A pair of worried blue eyes glowed in the darkness. The fire had long since died in the comfortable dining room, the sparse candles floating though the air providing the only light. The house elves had taken the food away more than an hour ago, and she had still not come. Not that he truly expected her to. Albus closed his eyes and leaned against his hand, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He had been an utter prat, and the fact that he knew it only made it worse.

That morning had been awkward, each once again too unsure of the other to completely relax after the previous night's debacle. It was just one more mistake to land squarely at his feet. Breakfast had been quiet, if a bit strained, until one his aids had arrived.

He still wasn't sure exactly how it began; the aids interruption was of little importance. The young man had only asked Albus to verify his schedule for the following week, but he had seen an immediate change in Minerva. She waited until they were alone, desperately biting her tongue, before she spoke.

Never one for skirting an issue, Minerva simply said it. "You can't still be Minister next week Albus; surely you've realized it by now."

He stared at her, the tea cup stopped partway to his parted lips. He knew she was utterly serious by the gleam in her eye and the set line of her lips, but he could hope. "And just what is it I should have realized Minerva?"

"Don't toy with me Albus; we're both to old for games. Are you going to look me in the eye and tell me after everything you've seen this week, everything that's happened these last years, that you would continue? I never thought you sadistic Albus; please don't tell me I've been wrong on that count as well."

Her words hit their target as Albus felt his anger rise and his heart constrict. How dare she suggest he step down! How could she expect he would just abandon everything he had built? The people would be lost now without his leadership; there would be chaos in the streets. Slowly, carefully, Albus set down his cup and took a breath. "It would do well not to speak of things you don't understand Minerva. My vision may have gone astray..I may have gone astray, but it doesn't have to stay that way. Our world can be saved, revived. It can be as it was before. These are my people Minerva; I will not simply abandon them."

Minerva stared at him, her jaw tight and her face flushed with anger. "No Albus," she spat, "you did that years ago. Your world has gone more than astray. It would be closer to hell in a handcart. If you cared one wit about your people, like you say, you would resign tomorrow at the ceremony, and hope beyond words you get out of the country before they catch you. Do you really expect that if things went back to the way it was that you wouldn't be dangling from the city gates by the day's end? I don't care how great a wizard you were, even you can't take on an entire country alone. And, you would be alone."

She rose from the table and threw her napkin at him, hitting his gobsmacked face. "You Albus Dumbledore are an idiot, and as much as I may love what you could be, you deserve whatever may come to you. You may be interested to know I received a letter from Severus this morning. He was doing a little research on Thomas Donnaly for an article he's writing, and found an old reference that matched my situation. With some digging he's found a way to send me back. It will still take some time to prepare, perhaps a few weeks. So, you have no real reason to worry. I'll soon be gone, and you will be free to torture your subjects as you please without my incessant nagging. I hope you'll be very happy together."

Albus groaned and leaned back in his chair. That had been that last he'd seen of her. He waited in his chambers for her to return, to apologize, but it didn't happen. And, with each passing hour, he became more and more unsure of himself.

She had been wrong to say such things, that was without question, but there was no reason for him to be cruel to her. She worried for him, and he threw it back in her face. It was little wonder she hadn't returned. Sure she would return for dinner, he had pot roast, her favorite, prepared for dinner, and waited. Looking over to the quietly ticking grandfather cloak, he saw it was approaching nine o' clock. Allowing worry to overwhelm his normally rational thoughts, he quickly summoned his warmest cloak and set out after her.

Apparently, the story of her return had spread to all quarters. Groups of wizards were huddled together, talking excitedly to each other, falling silent and bowing as each noticed his presence in the street.

After searching for an hour, he was still no closer, and the wind was beginning to pick up. He took refuge from the gale against a building, the stones blocking the worst of the gusts. It turned out to be a tavern, and Albus' luck changed.

A short wizard with more hair on his arms than head failed to notice him as he stumbled out of the bar, a tankard still clutched in his clammy hands. "..bum on that one? No wonder Dumbledore flipped his lid."

Before the little man could say another word, he found himself flush up against the freezing stones, an arm pressed firmly against his windpipe. "You've seen Minerva?" Albus asked, putting more pressure when the answer was not forth coming.

The little man nodded his head quickly as his eyes grew. "Where did she go?" He let go of Albus' arm just long enough to point up a winding road.

Albus stepped away and headed up the path, never noticing as the man slid down the wall, holding his throat. Albus knew exactly where she was; it was a path he hadn't traveled in five years, but this had been a week of firsts, and he hurried on.

The wind whipped violently around her, and Minerva pulled her traveling cloak tightly around her shoulders, trying to fend off the chill that had nothing to do with the weather. She stood, eyes fixed downward, in a vast forest of grey.

For as far as the eye could see, grey slabs, some with names, others ominously blank, protruded from the sea of green. The smell of moss filled the air, and a sense of mourning seemed to pervade the area, making even the trees weep in despair for so many lost.

The land had grown so quickly that the curator had been forced to institute a cataloguing system for the few visitors he received. So, the single plot she had wanted, no needed, to locate was far simpler then she had imaged.

It was a beautiful headstone, black marble instead of grey granite like the others. She stood transfixed as the stone glimmered in the moonlight and the words screamed at her. She had been standing there for almost an hour, yet it still felt surreal.

'Minerva McGonagall 1937-1998.

Love alters not with his brief hours or weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.

It had sounded so like him, the man she remembered now as almost a dream. It had only been days, but it had seemed ages. "Why did you have to die," she whispered to her grave. "Why did you have to leave him alone? Why did you..we have to be so damn stubborn?"

She reached out and brushed away the leaves that had cluttered the base, and she saw it. A single movement of darkness beside her hand. "Why are you here Minerva?" he whispered.

She shook her head, standing up once again and taking a step away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. "All I've heard today is since you died. There are just some things Albus, that you must see for yourself."

"I've never been back," he said, almost conversationally, "I've never been able to bring myself to return. If I stay away, I can still see her, you, as it used to be."

And they came directly to the problem. "Things aren't as they used to be Albus. You cannot keep pretending."

She looked to him, but his eyes were far away, staring at the marble reminder. "You always did enjoy Shakespeare."

The comment caught him off guard, and it took him a second to realize what prompted it. "It seemed appropriate," was his only response.

She nodded and took a step toward him. "Albus, if it is possible for me to return, would you let me go? Could you step away from everything and never return?"

There was silence, except for the caw of a crow high in the trees. She knew what he would say, but she had to allow him the opportunity to choose." "No, I wouldn't."

His voice held no regret but lacked certainty as well. Minerva's head fell forward as she nodded, trying to stop the swell of pain that threatened to overtake her. "Then you would condemn him to the same fate. Knowing what you do, you would force yourself, the man I love, to suffer as well. What they say is true. You have truly become a monster, and I will always mourn the man that was Albus Dumbledore."

Without another word or glance she walked away, leaving him to stand beside the grave he tried forever to forget.

She never saw the tears or heard his soft words as the wind carried them away. "Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, have put on black, and loving mourners be, looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. And truly not the morning sun of heaven, better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, nor that full star that ushers in the even doth have that glory to the sober west, as those two mourning eyes become thy face: O, let it then as well beseem thy heart to mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace, and suit thy pity in every part. Then will I swear beauty herself is black, and they foul that thy complexion lack."

His words trailed off, and he stood silent, watching the moonlight reflect off the marble. He could see her smile, hear her laugh, and he could feel her anguish as she walked away. He turned and could faintly make out her form on the edges of the cemetery. "Wait for me Tabby," he breathed, for the first time in a week sure of who he called for. He made his way quickly down the path and apparated away. There was work to be done.

Sonnet 116

Sonnet132


	13. Chapter 13

AN: I know it's late, but I've finally got the ending figured out. Please drop a line to let me know what you think.

Minerva woke up to the bright sunlight streaming through her windows and the wall sconces shaking as the ground quaked. Shouts filled the air as people ran through the corridors and doors slammed all around her. She barely managed to get her arms through the sleeves in her robes before bolting out in the confusion. She reached out a nd grabbed the arm of a Ministry worker. "What's happening?"

The woman's eyes were wide and her breath came out in fits and starts. "There was an attack in town. The rebels hung the Minister in effigy and set him on fire. When the guard arrived to detain them..those bloody devils killed them. Five guards are dead so far, but the rebels are still being driven back; there could be more." Her eyes widened further, her voice dropping. "I just can't believe it. They just clubbed them to death like a group of muggles. Those poor boys."

Minerva's grip on the woman loosened and her hand fell limply to her side. The woman ran off leaving Minerva to stand alone in the confusion. Without realizing it her feet carried her toward Albus' office. The crowds around her thinned out and eventually disappeared all together by the time she reached his door.

She didn't bother to knock as she pushed open the heavy door and stepped through. The room was surprisingly empty. Only Albus stood against the far wall, a window conjured behind his desk. He stood with his back to her in silence. He stared as guards flooded the streets to restore order. He shut his eyes tightly and willed himself not to sigh. The screams would start soon.

"Dumbledore, what happened?" She came to stand beside him, but couldn't bring herself to took at him.

His eyes opened at the cool tone of her voice and again stifled a groan at the set line of her jaw. "A sect of rebels from green sector somehow found their way into the main streets. They decided to make their views...known. It appears Guy Fawkes day came early this year. Eight of my guards are dead, and the numbers keep rising."

She nodded slowly, her chest tightening painfully. Apparently Harry grew tired of waiting. "I suppose this means you're going to cancel your speech this afternoon."

"I am not." His voice was firm and unyielding, just like him. "I will not be bullied into hiding in my office like some child Minerva. Allowing my life to be changed only gives the rebels power. They will learn terrorism will not succeed." He turned his attention back to his desk, which was covered in spare bits of parchment. "The celebration will continue as planned."

Despite herself, Minerva wasn't surprised. Nothing could surprise her anymore. "People are dying in the streets, families will be grieving, and you still plan to act as if nothing has happened? Do you truly think people will be prepared to celebrate anything?"

"Perhaps not," he conceded, "but life goes on. Once the rebels are pushed back into their sectors I will go visit the affected families. They made the ultimate sacrifice for their country, and they will be rewarded. I should be back at the Ministry before two. The event isn't set to begin until five, so I'll be more than ready. I see no reason to postpone the event."

"Good luck with that," she said sarcastically. She turned to walk out of the room when the door swung open.

One of the guards came sweeping into the room, his face a patchwork of scratches and scorch marks. He bowed low even as he swayed dangerously on his feet. "Sir, we've managed to subdue the uprising. The final count has settled at 13 dead and 43 wounded. Reports on the rebel casualties have yet to return."

The young man turned on his heel and just caught himself before falling face first to the ground. In an instant Minerva was by his side, supporting his weight. With a slight flick of her wand and several muttered words the severest gash, running from his left temple to just past his lip, had closed. "You should see a healer," she whispered when she released him. He was gone with a nod a quirk of the lips.

Five o'clock arrived far too quickly for Minerva. The last several had passed while she listened to the chaos around her dissolve into the ordered madness of the events preparations. She hadn't eaten all day, but she couldn't seem to muster up an appetite.

Finally she found herself firmly ensconced in a chair beside various officials upon the stage. Albus had insisted she join the cronies, and so she had. She sat in the set of burgundy robes that had been laid out in her chambers by a nervous house elf, staring out over the sea of half bored, half nervous faces.

Albus had been going on now for almost half an hour about the need for cooperation and tolerance in these difficult times when her eyes finally caught a glimpse. A mop of raven hair was moving slowly along the outer edges of the crowd, circling its way toward the dias. The lump in her throat grew and threatened to strangle her as she caught a glimmer of sunlight off the edge of a pair glasses.

Albus' voice, which had simply been washing over her, changed slightly. The slightly menacing tone caused her heart to pound. "..events of today only demonstrate the need for patience. Violence will not be tolerated, and I will do all that is necessary to quell the tide of malice. Those party to the slaughter of more than a dozen men today will feel the wrath of the world upon their shoulders. I will not rest until those guilty of such a heinous act are brought to justice, and our streets are once again safe for all. If it takes a month, a year, a century, they will be found. This is my pledge to you."

A roar of applause filled the air, even as Minerva felt her chest constrict in terror. The applause was replaced with shouts and the scrambling of feet. "Traitor!" filled the air and screams drowned out all else.

People scattered to the four winds and before Minerva could truly understand what was happening, the guards had left the stage and joined the throng. She felt a jet of heat pass by her shoulder before two strong arms hoisted her out of her chair and into the air. "Hurry," was all she heard she was dragged away.


	14. Chapter 14

She didn't understand what was happening as they ran. Screams. The world around them seemed to be collapsing as they weaved through the spells, shoving and pushing through the crowds, and all she could hear above the pounding in her ears were the screams. Bits of stone fell from overhead and scones fell from their mounts as a veritable light show erupted around them. She couldn't call out as her shoulder threatened dislocation and they moved faster. The praetorians were flooding the corridor, ignoring the two as they moved, shouting directions as they went. There was just so much screaming.

Without a word she was thrown bodily through a molding door and into darkness as it shut quickly behind them. It smelled of moth balls and mold, and it would probably be wise not to consider what her right hand was residing in. A faint rush of air and the tip of his wand glowed softly, casting them both in shadow. "What good is having wiles, woman, if you refuse to use them?"

"I don't particularly appreciate your tone Mr. Daniels. I'm sorry if I don't feel especially seductive this week." She snapped at him, through heavy breaths and took pleasure in the faint blush that crept up his neck. 'No more than a boy,' she realized despite his outward confidence. She was brought out of her reverie as the small broom cupboard gave a lurch and the wall before them rolled past like an ocean wave.

"We don't have much time professor," he said, batting the loose hair away from his eyes. "The majority of green sector is out there; some have managed to remove their collars, but most are simply carrying clubs, knives, and I think I saw a rolling pin in the mix. The other sectors have joined in, and even most of the guard is simply dropping their wands. The ministry is being overrun, and he won't last the hour."

A dull roar filled her ears. There had to be something, anything, that she could do. They were so close; she couldn't just abandon that now. He may not be her Albus anymore, but he was still Albus.

"I need time Daniels. Go; tell the others to give me as much time as possible. I need to try. If nothing else, it might cut down on casualties for both sides."

He just shook his head, his eyes staring just over her right shoulder, apologetic. "The headmaster and his wife arrived just before the event. I've been instructed to keep you safe. The last thing that would involve is letting you out of this room. Our side has been instructed not to harm you, but I wouldn't put it past one of the guards at this point. I'm sorry professor," he said grimacing.

With a searing flash, he was on his back staring up at the ceiling. "So am I Daniels," she said, patting his shoulder and pointing her wand at the door. "The spell should wear off in about fifteen minutes. Find Severus and the others. Get as many of the children to safety as you can, and don't worry about me. I'm a big girl, and anyway," she added wryly, "I've died once, hell, I've probably died a thousand times over already, so what's once more."

She couldn't see beyond the smoke; all she could make out were the outlines and hammering footfalls of those running past. She couldn't hear beyond the groans flowing through the air or the screams of those still fighting. Her cheek stung where the hex had grazed her and a falling piece of debris had done a number on her shoulder.

She ducked where she could, mounds of bodies from both sides creating perfect cover and stunning where she couldn't. She tripped as her foot caught in someone's cloak and landed face to face with one of the dead. A small boy with sandy hair, perhaps no more than twelve, stared back at her with incomprehension filling his one eye, the other missing with the rest of his face. Her heart stopped and she barely managed to roll over before her stomach emptied.

The air began to glow around her as she made her way toward Albus' office, the green hue foreshadowing the event to come. They were getting closer, but so was she. She could see the faces of those she knew floating in her mind's eye: Arthur, Tonks, Remus, Molly, Alastor, Albus. She could see him most of all, his short hair, cold eyes, the rage that flared. His image began to morph slowly. His eyes warmed, and began to glow as she always remembered them, and his hair grew. She could feel as sense of calm flood her as he smiled. "I'm coming love," he whispered, and he was gone.

There was a subtle change in the air, nothing more than a shift as her fingers trailed over the red mark that yet to fade along her neck. If she didn't know any better, she might even call it an omen. 'Good thing I know better,' she thought.

With another turn, there was silence. The corridor leading to his door was empty, and her feet slowed. She moved cautiously, stilted, toward the open door in front of her. He couldn't have left a bigger clue if he had plastered a giant sign on his door saying This is a trap.

With a deep breath, she raised her wand and walked through the doorway. He stood with his back to her, bracing himself with both hands atop his desk. He seemed so much smaller, so much more tired, than she could ever recall. Papers and quills littered the floor; the only thing left in its rightful place was her picture to his right. She could feel the tension radiating from him, and he seemed to be leaning more heavily on his left leg. If it weren't for the waves of his rage crashing over her, his bowed head would seem defeated.

"What ever you do, don't say it. Just don't say it," he said without turning around, his voice shaking.

She lowered her wand and stepped into the room, avoiding the clutter around her. She reached out and grabbed his arm, invading his space. She needed to make him understand, to try. She forced herself to ignore the smell of blood and filth that hit her. Horror filled her eyes and her hand dropped to cover her mouth as she stared at him.

He suppressed the flare of pain and hurt immediately, and his eyes were cold again as he turned from her. "Oh, Albus," she breathed.

"A physical manifestation for the soul within. A monstrous exterior for the one you see within, hmm Minerva? I'm sure it's most fitting."

His face was burned almost beyond recognition, his beard completely singed away and the skin was an angry red. His black armor was covered in flash marks where spells had connected. The first volley had made contact before he or his guard were able to react, and the evidence of his people's rage was now plain on his face. It was his eyes, though, that truly stilled her heart. They were mad.


	15. Chapter 15

It was an odd sensation, this unrelenting stillness

It was an odd sensation, this unrelenting stillness. He could see Severus' lips moving, eyes flashing, but not a sound penetrated the stillness. Only the pounding of his own heart and the dread flooded through him, coiling in his stomach, choking off his air. There was a crash, a moan that could bring hell to its knees, and then a light. All thoughts of Severus, of danger, fled from his mind as he stepped forward, reaching, and then he was gone, leaving Severus to count the seconds.

* * *

"Albus please!" she begged, her voice cracking and desperate to her own ears as her hand found its place on his shoulder. The armor was still hot to the touch, a small magical charge skittering over the surface. "There's still time. Go!"

He shook after her hand angrily, ignoring the flare those sparked in his chest at the desperate look in her eye. He dragged his right leg behind him as he paced, the gash running a long the back of his calf only now visible. The screams grew louder, finally reaching his inner sanctum as the masses approached; there was no more time. "It can be suppressed," he muttered to himself, over and over. "The people will see."

"Those who have survived you have seen Albus, and this is the result. If you don't go now, they will catch you, and there are none to help you. How many more have to die Albus? How many more bodies must be laid at your door? How many of the children, _our_ children Albus will die in the name of your fallen empire?" He voice was soft, anguish lacing though each word while she stepped in front of him, blocking his path. The smell of him made her gag as the heat caused his blood to begin to curdle along the edges of the armor, but she suppressed it, intent as she was; he had to see. His eyes had flashed and his magic flared when she blocked his way, but her own magic reached out, soothing the edges of his own, desperate for understanding, for acceptance.

His breath rattled in his chest, pain tearing through his side, making him cough, but his magic retreated even as his hand reached toward her. To her credit, Minerva barely flinched as his finger traced her cheek, a cooling sensation following in its' wake as the damage repaired itself. His eyes were still wild, never resting, but the insanity, the desperation, had vanished.

"I will not run," he said, his voice wavering but unmistakable. His hand was heavy on her shoulder, and he could feel her warmth through the cloth. His heart wrenched as the building shook around them, causing dust to fall from the ceiling and Minerva to flinch. She forced herself to look up at him as his thumb brushed against her chin. "You would not come with me."

His voice had been little more than a whisper, but she heard him clearly. She wanted to reach for him, wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around him and pretend he was hers again, but she stepped back instead, her fists clenching tightly at her sides, drawing blood as the nails bit into her palm. He was no longer hers to console. She shook her head, dust creating a halo around her. "No, I wouldn't."

She grabbed a hold of him as he tried to retreat from her, to lock himself away once again in his madness. "You were able to bury her Albus, to mourn your loss. I have spend a week mourning the death of the man I loved above all others, the good man who rescued an orphan from the streets and always made sure I had catnip in my stocking. I will mourn the loss of you for the rest of my days, but please Albus, I don't want to have to bury you too."

His eyes shone as an uncomfortable stillness settled over them. The silence was broken as the door creaked and both occupants whirled toward the noise, wands pointed ahead. Grief flooded her senses as she saw the mop of unruly black hair and glimmering eyes. There was no glow about him, but the wand in his hand was still sparking. "Oh, you won't have to worry about that professor. The pieces won't be big enough."


	16. Chapter 16

Harry made his way further into the room, his eyes never faltering, the heavy wooden door closing behind him with barely a click, but the noise was still thunderous within the silence of the chamber. The moment pressed in around them, oppressive, as time itself crashed around them. A wand, glittering red in the fading sunlight, extended from his hand, equally red, though not from the sun. He observed the scene before him, his head cocked slightly in annoyed wonder. Of all the people in the world, they had always confounded him most; too stubborn by half, opinionated, and infuriatingly calm in the face of bedlam, they had, in turns, equally enraged and soothed him, used him and protected him, abandoned him and loved him. And he had loved them once, not so long ago; if he blinked, he could still smell old leather and see a man with a long white beard reaching forward with a bag of sweets. He could still see that damnable twinkle. For all that, there were others. The screams, shouts, pleas and burning flesh never left him; the dementors no longer brought forth his mother's screams, but Ron's cries as he lay weeping for his mother, his leg twitching five feet away. But, despite all that, his wand was steady.

"At first, I'll admit I was tempted. In true imperial fashion, crucifixion was on the top of my list. I wondered how many days you would last before you succumbed. The look in your eye as your lungs began to give way, the moment when you realized it was time, when death would finally claim you, was something I've dreamed of, longed for. But, we couldn't risk the implications, the potential for martyrdom, despite the martyr, was too high. You're not worth that much consideration."

Harry stepped forward, watching Minerva's wand drop slightly out of the corner of his eye. A pang flitted across his heart at the stricken expression blanketing her face. It was an expression he had seen far too often over the years. There would only be one more. "I thought, perhaps, a more traditional fate would be appropriate. Drawing and quartering would certainly put the public's fears to rest as your head hangs from the gates of the Ministry, but even that didn't seem quite enough. You would still be there, constantly reminding the people." He took another step forward, grimacing not only at the smell emanating from the man, but at his actions. The Minister, never taking his eyes from Harry, had unconsciously placed himself between Harry's wand and Minerva. Even now he protected her.

"It finally came to me one night. You're going to die Dumbledore, there's no getting around that. But, it will be quick; it will be painless, and your ashes will be tossed to the four winds. You will not be joining her," Harry nodded toward Minerva. "Your government will be disbanded, and the old Ministry will be re-constituted. Elections will be held within 3 months, and the Hogwarts curriculum will be also be re-instated. This time next year, all of this will have been a horrible nightmare, and you the Boogey man. You will be reviled, loathed, but only for awhile. Eventually, you will become as all other tyrants before you. You'll be an oddity; you'll cease to matter. I can think of nothing worse for a man so self-important."

Harry smirked as Albus' lip curled and his hand shook, causing sparks to fly from the tip of his wand, which had pointed at Harry's heart the moment he stepped into the room. It had been too long. This moment had been building since Dumbledore had turned his back on everything he stood for, since he turned his back on her. No one blinked as the room shook and dust floated through the air or as the screams turned to moans. Everything stopped in that moment.

"Albus please; it's enough. No more Albus. No more." Minerva reached out and rested her hand on his wrist, the weight of her hand the only pressure. She could feel his pulse pound even there, matching her own. His skin was hot, painfully so, and she could feel the tremble of his body move into her own, joining them. The thought further stilled her dying heart as the hate flowed between the two men. Too many had died already, and she had failed them all, but if she could save one person, it would be worth whatever the price. She never moved her hand as she skirted around him, letting their bodies brush together, letting him feel her. They were chest to chest, breath to breath, and she paid Harry no mind as his wand pointed directly at her back. The trembling of his hand increased as her thumb began to rub along his wrist and his eyes finally fell to hers. She forced herself to look at the man even as his wounds made her stomach turn. "Do you remember Albus?" she asked, her voice thick and for him alone. "Do you remember when the snow storm hit, and we had to deliver Charlie in the living room of the Burrow? Do you when we left Harry with those people, and you cried every night for a week in your sleep while I held your hand? Remember the little girl living on the street, her family gone, that you carried in your arms to safety." She reached up and stroked the one patch of skin above the armour not burned beyond recognition. "You've always valued life Albus. Don't take anymore."

Her eyes searched his, seeking out the flicker that had tormented her all week. He returned her gaze, slate grey eyes piercing and his breaths heavy. His mouth worked, but no sounds spilled forth, and it was over almost as soon as it began. His eyes softened and dropped closed, a look of anguish crossing his mangled features, while his shoulders slumped and his wand dropped to hang loosely at his side. A single tear slid down her cheek as his head hung and he staggered back to lean against the desk, giving himself a clear view of the angry man before him. He looked every inch the old, defeated, man that she could never image him to be. "Well," he said, looking up wearily, spreading his arms as wide his injuries would allow him. "Get on with it then. What's wrong?" he asked when Harry made no move. "Is the target too small? Here," he reached up and undid the straps holding his armour in place. It fell away from his body, showing a white shirt, long soaked red, clinging to a well muscled chest. The way he favoured his left side clearly showed broken ribs, and the gash over his clavicle had finally burned closed. "Just aim for the heart Harry; I promise it's still there."

Harry looked between the two as he stepped forward. "All you had to do was walk away; you could have just gone back to whatever rabbit hole you sprang from, and we would have left you alone." His eyes were flat, the spark of anger gone, leaving his emerald eyes a dull green. "This entire mess started because of her, she comes back, and even that wasn't enough! She's been trying to save your sorry arse all week. We caught her." Harry watched the disbelief creep into his misshapen features, contorting an already impossible visage. "I was tempted to kill her, but she was adamant that you be given the opportunity for redemption. That's what love is, isn't Minister? Isn't that what you taught me? That no matter what a person may do, who they may become, we care for them anyway; we try to forgive them? We gave her that chance. You failed." The chanting outside the door grew louder as the masse closed in on them. "We extracted silence as payment for both your safety and hers." Minerva's vision clouded and Albus began to wheeze. "She still loved you enough to care."

No one had a chance to react to his final jab as all hell broke loose around them. The solid door behind them gave way with a thunderous crash, splintering as it fell. A boy, no more than fifteen, stumbled through, his brown eyes wild. It was only in the space of a heartbeat; no one saw the wand. The boy didn't aim, just threw the curse at the first person he saw. A green light of a different type shot across the room, and Minerva didn't have time to react before a weight collided with her, shoving her to the ground beneath it, encircling her. A whine filled the air as Harry struck down the boy, removing his wand until the young man could regain his senses. Minerva choked as the air was, again, knocked from her lungs and every mouthful brought the stench of blood to her nostrils. She attempted to push off the weight holding her down, and she was finally successful at rolling them both.

She made her way, unsteadily, to her feet, her eyes wide at the body spread out before her. His gaze was empty, his wand laying only inches from his limp hand. She looked up at Harry, who stared at her in shock. Her eyes followed his, and her hands raised up to the level of her eyes. They, and the rest of her, were covered in blood, his blood. Minerva was startled by a loud keening noise, and it took a beat before she realized the sound was coming from her own throat. She wailed a pain incomprehensible bringing her to her knees before him, her fingers resting on his stilled chest. She raised her head, wounded eyes locking on Harry, his wand falling limp at his side. It wasn't supposed to end like this, never like this. He took a step forward, his hand reaching out, but he never made it. He felt the tingle of magic creep up his spine before he heard it. A flash of blinding light filled the room, quickly followed by a deafening boom as glass shattered and Harry was forced to his knees against the onslaught. He reached up to cover his eyes, and in that instant, there was a ghost before everything quieted, and Harry Potter found himself alone with the body of a man he was only just now beginning to know.

They landed together, crumpled on the floor of his office, but they were together. He could feel her shaking in his arms as he struggled to right them both. He looked up into concerned eyes as Severus helped them to their feet, and pulled Minerva closer. The office was in shambles; instrument pieces littered the floor, lemon drops stuck to every possible surface, and one or two of the portraits looked scandalized beyond repair. He wrapped his arms around her waist as Minerva burrowed into his chest, taking in lung fulls of the familiar scent, trying to extract every ounce of comfort from his warmth. She lifted her head, her lips trailing along his neck, before they made contact with his, and he pulled her tightly to him. The kiss was desperate, passionate, almost painful as a week of pent of pain, fear, and rage flowed from her. A haze of green and worn faces flashed through her mind, even as his tongue stroked against hers. Screams, moans, and angry words played out in her ears while a moan of a different sort rumbled through his chest, and she answered with her own. The kiss tapered away, breaths washing over faces and Minerva leaned into him for moment, gripping his robes between her fingers. In the next second, Albus was standing alone, watching her walk away and through the door behind her, her heels and his ragged breathing the only sounds to be heard. Her confusion, relief, and sorrow flowed through him along with her joy, and he let her go.

Severus looked between the door and the, now slightly bloody and disheveled, headmaster. It had only been five seconds, and now everything should be back to what passes for normal in his life. So why was he getting a splitting headache? He turned to the headmaster. "What the bloody hell was that?!"


	17. Chapter 17

The rumour mill could be considered a finely honed machine. No matter what else may be happening, no matter how busy or stressed people are, the mill grinds on, passing information at speeds incomprehensible to man. There were days when Albus delighted in the efficiency of the system, and other days, such as today, when he cursed it and the accuracy of the information with every fiber of his being. His heels clicked loudly in the halls as students flung themselves against the walls to clear the way. If he had heard, so had they, and he was in no mood to indulge their curiosity. He could only image what they were thinking, and it only spurred him on, his heart hammering against his ribs.

In the six months since she had returned, things had changed, but not in the way he had hoped. She was still perfectly polite when they met, her eyes still held a glow when she thought he wasn't looking, but she was different; they were different. She hadn't touched him again after that first embrace, hadn't been alone with him unless it involved school business, and the weight loss and pitch black circles under her eyes spoke of weeks, not days, of sleepless nights. More than once, he had wandered toward her classroom after the last bell, hoping to talk to her, only to find her curled over her desk, sobbing. His own pain and uncertainty kept him away and with every new incident, his own self-loathing increased, widening the gap between them.

He turned the corner, nearly bowling over a group of fifth years as his mind flashed to a month prior. She had refused to give up her seat beside him, and meals became a daily battle of wills and resolve. Only this one day, the lines were broken. Neither had noticed as they spoke with the others around them. It wasn't until Albus went to reach for his tea cup that he realized Minerva had grabbed his hand. Her knuckles were white and her nails bit into the skin as she gripped him. When he gave the hand a squeeze, pleased beyond belief at the movement, Minerva started, and her head swung around. Both stopped breathing as the moment played out, her eyes widening as she took in the scene. She went to pull away, her cheeks pale, and he grasped her harder, begging. His heart wrenched in his chest at the pain in her eyes and the minute shake of her head. He released her, letting his fingers take in the texture of her skin as they skimmed away, still amazed at the softness of her. He refused to look away, and he watched as she stared at her own hand, losing herself to a world he could never image, before she blinked and her fist balled. She was gone in a flurry of robes and vanilla.

He came to the door, watching it swing open before him, and he was brought up short by the scene before him. Minerva sat on her desk, feet hanging loosely, her hair flowing freely down her back, and wand dangling between her fingers. She sat, transfixed, by the image before her. A man, his own doppelganger, stood before her, furious and bloody. In that instant, all rational thought stopped. He had become her worst nightmare. The fifth year students had received quite the surprise when she opened the supply cupboard to retrieve the snails that morning, and woe be to whomever it was that moved the boggart from the empty third floor classroom. He shifted, the door creaked, and two pairs of eyes snapped toward him. One set grew wide as another rippled, a beard growing long, robes replacing armour. So much in the past half year had changed, but this basic fact had not. He raised his wand and gave the incantation. The boggart promptly found himself head over heels, his knobby knees exposed for all to see as his robes fell covered his face before disappearing all together.

The clatter of her wand hitting the flagstones was the only sound to be heard as both looked at the other. "I still cared for him." Her voice was soft, and Minerva was scarcely aware that she had spoken. Images, voices, smells filled her mind, choking her as they had for so many nights. "I pitied him, loathed him for what he did, what he had become, but…" she hesitated, turning her head and watched as Albus stepped further into the room. "for all that he was, and all that I hated him, I loved him…you in equal measure. He turned his back on all that we hold dear, but I couldn't help myself." A lonely tear crept down her cheek, and she didn't bother to wipe it away.

She didn't have to as Albus reached out and caught it with his thumb, touching her for the first time in so long. Both could feel the pulse of heat and longing flood them as their skin touched. He was as gentle as she was soft, warm as she was trembling. In that instant it ceased to matter; both were simply too tired to deny it any longer. He stepped between her legs, her robes brushing against him, and his arm sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She fit perfectly against him just as she always had. He forced her to look him in the eye while he rested his forehead against her own. "I love you. You are my love, my life, you are my wife, and when I thought I had lost you nothing mattered anymore. A single look from you can make my heart sing, and to have lost that is incomprehensible, maddening." He felt her tremble beneath his fingers as the tears flowed freely and her fists gathered in front of his robes, securing him to her. "He lost his way in the madness love, but you helped him find his way. In the end, you were our touchstone, our home in the darkness. You saved him from himself; you helped him find that last moment of dignity. Please, Min, don't forget what he was, but don't forget what you helped him become again. Let it go love; let the pain go." She blurred as his own eyes filled with tears and her ragged breathing danced across his cheeks. She kissed him with a heartbreaking passion, with pain and anger, with love and longing. Their lips barely parted, and she kept her eyes closed. "Promise me," she begged, and neither had to ask what she meant. "Promise." His voice was as raw as hers, and the classroom door clicked shut and locked with a resounding snap.

The rain was cold and heavy as it beat down around his shoulder, clouding his glasses and chilling him to the bone. Six months had passed and the grass had grown lush and green. He crouched low, ignoring the creaking of his knees, and set the single white rose at the marble base, brushing aside the few leaves that had collected there. He blinked the rain water away as he read the headstone, the words seeming even more appropriate now than they had six months prior.

Thou man may be led astray

through fault and folly

In love may the greatest of sins be forgiven

Here lies a man, whom through love lost had greatly fallen

to rise again from the flame of love reunited.

Harry stood up, the water rolling from him, cleansing him of more than the tears leaking from his eyes. He looked to his right to the slab of shining black marble and sighed before looking down once again. It was time to go; he didn't belong there anymore. "Goodbye…Headmaster." He turned and walked away, his cloak wiping around his heels. He left the graveyard and the two people he once considered family alone to rest, together.


End file.
